


Old Habits

by notanotherscreenname



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Prodigious use of profanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:15:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanotherscreenname/pseuds/notanotherscreenname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She paused before rounding the corner to come to the final landing of stairs that would take her down into the inns ground floor tavern. Pulling a glass vial from the pouch on her hip she glanced around her to be sure that no one was near. It wouldn’t kill anyone but she didn’t want to afflict anyone else with this ailment if she could help it. Once she was sure there was no danger of harming someone else she uncorked the vial and inhaled the noxious gas within until the vial was empty. It smelled of sulfur and rot and left her tongue coated in thick, sour saliva. She fought against her body’s reaction to sputter and cough the irritant from her lungs. She needed to be sick, he was a healer he would know if she was just faking it and her job was to gain his trust. Once spots littered her vision she let out a long exhale and then submitted to the coughing fit she had inflicted upon herself. </p><p>Anders hasn't seen or heard from Hawke in years but when the woman he sent tells Anders that his best friend needs him he willingly runs back to Kirkwall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 11/29/15 Edited for errors and some fairly glaring inconsistencies in the timeline and character descriptions.

     She paused before rounding the corner to come to the final landing of stairs that would take her down into the inns ground floor tavern. Pulling a glass vial from the pouch on her hip she glanced around her to be sure that no one was near. It wouldn’t kill anyone but she didn’t want to afflict anyone else with this ailment if she could help it. Once she was sure there was no danger of harming someone else she uncorked the vial and inhaled the noxious gas within until the vial was empty. It smelled of sulfur and rot and left her tongue coated in thick, sour saliva. She fought against her body’s reaction to sputter and cough the irritant from her lungs. She needed to be sick, he was a healer he would know if she was just faking it and her job was to gain his trust. Once spots littered her vision she let out a long exhale and then submitted to the coughing fit she had inflicted upon herself.

 

    She put the vial back into the pouch and descended the final flight of stairs to search the tavern for her target. She almost gave up, believing she wouldn’t find him among the revelers. Unassuming, that was how they had described the healer, he‘d probably rented a room and ate there to avoid the crowd. A fit of coughing racked her again as she passed an old man smoking a pipe, the cloying herbal smoke filling her nostrils made her instinctively try to take shallower breaths which made her lungs protest. She braced herself on the nearest table swearing oaths in several languages under her breath. As she regained control of her breathing a calloused hand gently wrapped around her wrist and another landed on her shoulder tracing a soothing circle there before she heard a calm male voice speak near her ear.

 

    “Come sit down, let me get you some water.”

 

    She allowed herself to be led to a table further away from the man with the pipe and sat down slowly simulating a muscle ache she didn’t feel. _Be as sick and pathetic as you can,_ they had said. _He can’t walk away from a patient it’s not in his nature._

 

    She looked up to the man, confirming his identity now, easily recognizing the angular features and honeyed eyes. She smiled up at him sheepishly, fretting with the sleeve of his tatty black coat. He smiled down at her with a detached look to his eyes. She could almost hear his thoughts, chastising himself to walk away and not draw attention to himself.

 

    She sputtered again, this time using the handkerchief she had prepared earlier to cover her mouth. When she pulled it away she feigned shock at the blood there. His eyebrows sank a bit. She could read the resignation there, she knew she almost had him and forced a small quiver through her bottom lip. He leaned down to speak directly into her ear so she could hear him without him raising his voice over the crowd. His breath was warm on her neck when he said, “I’m a healer, I can help you but I’d rather not draw attention. Do you have a room here?”

 

    She had decided to use an Anderfels accent, suspecting it would call on very old memories of a home he had been ripped from at an early age. She shot her eyebrows up and pulled her bottom lip into her teeth showing him how inappropriate the request was. She then softened her features after a deliberate second and said, “Ser mage, I’m sure you must have better things to do than to fret over a sick girl.”

 

    “Actually I don’t, I only came in here to warm up a bit and maybe get some food before I go on my way.”

 

    She smiled at him sadly and said, “I can’t afford a healer.” She flattened out the a in can’t to sound like the a in calm and then put a heavy percussion on the t.

 

    This time when he smiled it looked almost genuine but it still didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about money, I don’t require payment.” Then realizing that his words could be misconstrued he quickly added, “No payment of any kind is required.”

 

    There. She had him, the smile touched his eyes for a split second. _He genuinely cares about people and healing makes him happy_ , they had said. She stood slowly, again pretending to be sore. She motioned for him to follow her back up the stairs to the room she had rented. She pushed through the door as if it were made of steel rather than rough wood, then shuffled into the room. When he walked in and passed her she wheeled around and locked then barred the door with a chair.

 

    She dropped the accent she had been using and picked up her natural voice and flat accent. “Are you Anders?”

 

    He spun around eyes showing the immediate recognition of her deception. “Who sent you? Sebastian? The Templars? Nice touch sending a sick woman. I fell for it but I’m not sorry that I still have enough compassion to do so.”

 

    She held up her hands, palms out. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time to explain so I’m just gonna touch on the important parts. I’ll be a bit cryptic in the haste but just know that a big birdy sent me.” She swiped her fingers across the bridge of her nose hoping the mage got the hint. After running into the Starkhaven shit she didn’t trust that she wasn’t being eavesdropped on.

 

    She dug into the backpack she had left on the bed and pulled out a very old but well cared for hand embroidered pillow. She held it out to him gingerly, like she was offering a scrap of meat to a feral dog. “He told me that you would need proof and sent this to show that you can trust me.”

 

Anders gasped as he snatched the pillow from her hands. “I thought this was gone forever. I left it on his … in the estate. He really sent you didn’t he? Maker, that man is amazing and insufferable. I haven‘t heard from him in years, why is he sending for me now?”

 

     “No time for that now and I don‘t know the specifics anyway. You were almost right, the prince is coming for you. I slowed them down but they’ll be no more than two hours behind me, probably less than that. Close enough that we can’t stay here at least. I don’t have time to explain the reasons to you until I get you somewhere safer. For now I need you to trust me.”

 

    Just then a loud thump sounded against the door and they heard slurred voices giggling against the other side. She slammed her hand into the door then raised her voice to be heard through it snarling, “This room is occupied.”

 

    The abuse to her lungs set her coughing again and Anders stepped forward catching her elbows. He laughed without humor and asked, “How is a sick woman supposed to rescue me?”

 

    “Technically, I’m collecting you. That I’m collecting you just before that Chantry assface shows up is a coincidence. Also it’s just chokedamp which I’m told you’re proficient at healing from your time in Darktown.”

 

    He smiled at her description of Sebastian but frowned when he realized what she‘d said. “Where did you encounter chokedamp out here in the country?”

 

    She smirked at the unconcealed shock in his face when she handed him the vial. “I needed to actually be sick, but I also needed you to be able to heal it quickly. Like now. My lungs are on fire.”

 

    “Maker, you’re insane aren’t you? Leave it to that big dope to send an insane person after me.” Even as he spoke the blue light of healing magic began crackling around his hands. He reached out to her but stopped short of touching her when he noticed her wincing.

 

    “I need to touch you to heal you. Is that alright?”

 

    She nodded rearranging her face to show him that she was ready for the touch of magic. He placed his hands on her ribs searching for the poison she had willingly drawn into her lungs. The magic spread as a warmth through her torso and she could feel it pressing gently against her lungs. Even as gentle as he was she was screaming on the inside of her head to run away from the magic he was pouring into her body. Old prejudices that she had learned in her early life were hard to break. When he finished she stepped back to put some distance between them but hurried to reassure him.

 

    “Growing up I was taught that magic unbridled was dangerous and not to be trusted. I know better in the logical part of my mind but old habits are hard to break”

 

    “Did you grow up with Templars?” He spat the last word out as a curse.

 

    “Nope. No Templars where I’m from. I’ll explain more later. Now we need to leave, preferably through that widow.” She gestured to the window on the far side of the room. “I didn’t see a pack with you downstairs. Do you have anything you need to get before we go?”

 

“Dinner, sleep, time to think”

 

    “I can provide all of that once we get the fuck out of here,” she snapped. She was losing patience with him but damn it this mage was wasting time. He trusted her, she could tell that, but he was digging in his heels. Perhaps an old habit of rebellion that he couldn’t break.

 

    She decided to give him a moment to think while she donned her gear and gathered her things. She didn’t expect trouble but she wanted to be prepared for it. She shed the colorless frock she had been wearing over her black and red leathers and then pulled on her long coat. As she was buckling the harness that held her swords strapped to form an X on her back he looked over her, appraisal obvious on his face.  When he spoke it was almost too quiet to hear and he was openly astonished. She hoped he hadn’t tried to play Wicked Grace too often, his face was so expressive she could practically read his thoughts.

 

    “What, … who are you?”

 

    “I’m the person your best friend sent to collect you because you are needed. I’m also the person who will have to kill a prince to protect you if you don’t get your ass moving.” She had finished strapping on her gear and just stood hips cocked to one side, arms crossed over her chest looking at him pointedly.

 

    He finally seemed to give in and moved toward the window but stopped short to ask, “What’s your name?”

 

    She forced the window open and allowed the rush of cool air to calm her before the earthy scents of the stables below could waft in. She shoved him through it onto the roof of the stables below. As she pulled her hood up to cover her ears she said “I don’t have a name, you can decided what to call me while we flee.”

 

    With that she disappeared over the edge of the roof and he had no choice but to follow when he heard the familiar lilt of Starkhaven accents rise up from the ground level of the inn.

  
\--------

  
    He did his best to climb down from the roof with grace and speed but he was sure it more resembled a controlled fall than the nimble leap of his, … rescuer? Companion? Nameless, insane, mystery woman? She was near the stable doors, when she heard him hit the ground she came to his side motioning silently for him to follow her. He decided to comply for the moment but intended to get all the information he could once they were a safe distance from the, “Chantry assface.”

 

    They moved away from the inn as quickly and stealthily as possible. Well, she was stealthy, he was not a young man by at least a few years and the hard life he’d been living had added a creak and stiffness to his movements. Just as they lost sight of the inn he heard a pop of an explosion.

 

    “Maker’s balls, what was that?” He hissed out in surprise.

 

    She snorted with what he was certain was gleeful laughter and said, “That was a concussion grenade. While you were falling off of the roof I strapped it to the inside of the stable door. It was far enough away from the horses to not hurt them but they’ll be worked up enough that they’ll be useless to chase us. Also whoever opened the door is on his ass in the dirt with a monster headache. How likely do you think it would be for Prince-Holier-Than-Thou to get his own horse from the stables?”

 

    This time it was Anders’ turn to snort. “About as likely as me stripping to my smalls and walking into a Chantry.”

 

    “I think I’d pay to see that.”

 

    They walked for another hour and a half in mostly friendly silence, her stopping every once in a while to do something to obscure their path from trackers, him lost in thought. What was important enough for Hawke to send this insane little woman to find him after three years of silence? Had something horrible happened? What would be bad enough that he’d need Anders?

 

    When he’d decided that this line of thought would get him nowhere without more information he decided to examine … her, more closely. She was much shorter than him, more the height of an elf than a human but she lacked the tell tale pointed ears and huge eyes of elves. Nor did she have the silhouette of an elf, she was mostly well muscled and slightly more bulky than would be considered feminine for a human. Her hips were slightly wider than her shoulders almost giving her the stocky build of a dwarf save her height. Her chest was small, not that he was looking, well yes he was looking but he wasn‘t trying to ogle. Her hair and eyes were dark and skin was beige but he couldn’t make out more than that thanks to the hood she wore pulled down low over her face.

 

    When he’d first seen her in the tavern she looked meek. The perfect imitation of a humble, poor, unhealthy Darktown resident he would have treated in his clinic a lifetime ago. Her face was sweet and open drawing him in but all he saw was a patient so he didn’t really look at her. The accent was a nice touch he had to admit. It reminded him of the few people who he’d genuinely loved in his lifetime.

 

    Once they’d entered the room upstairs and she’d shut the door, she had morphed into a completely different person. Everything from her posture to her voice had changed. She went from wretched to smooth maybe even confident in a heartbeat. Her face changed in a near imperceptible way to reflect that change. It wasn’t so much that she hardened, it was more like she had come into focus. Still thanks to the panic of realizing she had come for him he couldn’t form a memory of her face.

 

    “Come this way,” she directed, breaking his concentration.

 

    She walked into an abandoned shack beckoning for him to follow. He complied after only a second of hesitation. He’d followed her this far, might as well stick with her a little longer. Besides, he thought, he could just feed her a fireball if she attacked him.

 

    She’d left him at the door, moving further into the room to retrieve a satchel. “Here, there’s a change of clothes in there as well as some food. Don’t eat it all it’s for both of us.” Hawke must have told her about his Warden’s appetite. “There’s a bath full of clean water in the next room. It’s cold but I’m told you mages have a trick for that. I’m going to scout the perimeter and activate some warning traps so we can get some rest.”

 

    “Wait!” Anders stepped forward reaching out to grab her but stopped short just before touching her. “I still don’t even know what to call you. What’s going on? You said you‘d explain when we got to a safer location.”

 

    “I told you, I don’t have a name. I don’t even have a title anymore.” She slid her gaze down and away and he almost thought he could see something like pain or regret in there but when she looked back and spoke again it was gone. “The Inquisitor calls me Dizzy.”

 

    He quirked up one side of his mouth and asked, “What kind of name is that?”

 

    “It’s a nickname,” she snapped. “I. Don’t. Have. A. Name. You really are dense aren’t you?”

 

    “How do you not have a name? Memory loss? Is it just a stupid name you don’t want people to know?”

 

    With that she huffed out an annoyed breath and turned her back to him making it to the door in a few steps. She barked a parting command for him to take a bath as she stepped out and slammed the door shaking dust from the rafters in her wake.

 

    “Well,” he said as much to the empty room as the spirit in his head, “she did say she was going to be cryptic.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning a little more about the nameless, insane, mystery woman. I swear she gets a more permanent name next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 11/29/15 Edited for errors and some fairly glaring inconsistencies in the timeline and character descriptions.

    She stalked around the perimeter of the shack complaining about the mage in barely hushed tones. She knew she should have stayed in character for him, but Hawke insisted that Anders would trust truth over a character and Justice would see through the disguise. She knew better. Everyone preferred the pretty lie over the empty truth. Now he was going to push and try to ferret at her identity when she didn’t really have one. Everyone always pushed until they realized there was nothing there and it always left her exhausted.  
  
    How was she supposed to explain to him in such a short time that she had no real identity? She spent her life playing characters carefully designed to gain trust, gather information, or deal death. Without the familiar comfort of a constructed identity she found herself bubbling with anxiety at every question he asked. He so unnerved her with his insistence that she have a name that she had told him of the ridiculous nickname the Inquisitor had given her the first time she’d seen her fighting.  
  
    That thought conjured up the memory of how the Inquisitor came up with the name. “You spin around like a top and I can’t keep up with where you are or what you’re doing. It’s enough to make one dizzy. Oh, that’s what I’ll call you, Dizzy!”  
  
    Still, it was better than what The Bull called her. He’d taken to calling her Polly, as in “Polly want a cracker” because she could mimic almost any sound, accent or voice she heard. That skill was what landed her in the Ben-Hassrath in the first place. She was already slated for spy work given that her appearance would make it easier for her to get close to humans than a born Qunari would. Once the Tamassrans realized she could mimic everything she saw and heard they began training her as a bard and later in the more ruthless arts of a true assassin.  
  
    Her early life was spent learning how to read and speak the languages of the most powerful cultures in Thedas in order to insert her into as many situations as possible as a spy. Later when she was older she was trained in the bardic arts of song, storytelling and seduction. Well seduction to the point of making a target vulnerable to attack. She never slept with a target and the Tamassrans probably wouldn‘t have condoned it anyway.  
  
    She’d heard of the habit the Antivan Crows had, sleeping with marks just always seemed messy and complicated to her. She’d met a Crow once. They’d unknowingly been hunting the same mark and shared a meal once the job was over. The Crow insisted that his way was much more fun than hers. He also insisted that he could show her how to have fun. He never noticed that her wine glass stayed full during the meal or the taste of the toxin she’d put in his. It wasn’t enough to hill him, but it did give her a head start to leave Antiva before he alerted The Crows to the presence of a foreign assassin.  
  
    She longed for a good assassination to plan instead of babysitting the mage. Then she could have a character to play, she’d know what to say and do to gain her targets trust. Even if she agreed with his actions, in theory if not practice, she had no strong feelings about him prior to the request to retrieve him and bring him to Hawke. Hawke had insisted that Anders was integral to whatever he needed, he was the leader of the rebellion that started this mess after all. It made sense and she didn’t press for more details and when Hawke hired her she agreed to retrieve Anders. She researched him and interviewed Hawke and Varric to get as much knowledge about him as she could to aid in finding him. In truth she'd developed a bit of a crush on the idea of him, but now, after meeting him and knowing him for a few hours, he had flustered her almost to the point of a panic attack.  
  
    The only things that calmed her in these moments of anxiety were work or slipping on an identity. Since she’d agreed to be herself, what little of herself there was, that left work as her only refuge. When she’d found this shack earlier in the day and decided to use it as her camp for the night she had set up traps at every entrance as well as on the paths leading to it. They were non lethal, designed to be an alarm system and deterrent instead. She was doing her best to avoid killing people, a trail of bodies would have drawn too much attention. She’d made sure she had remapped multiple exit strategies before finally feeling calm enough to go back into the shack.  
  
    Once she reentered, the anxiety spiked for a second upon seeing a fire in the hearth. She soon realized that it was mage fire that produced no smoke but warmed the room. The use of magic made her hair itch but she could handle it as long as there was no smoke in the chimney to draw attention to them. She raked her fingers over her hair trying to calm the crawling of the skin on her scalp. Anders had finished his bath and sat in just his breeches on a decrepit wooden bench near the fire. He’d managed to dry his body but the small towel that she’d provided him did nothing to help dry his hair which was quite long and laying in wilted bundles along his shoulders.  
  
    He had his full attention on the tunic she’d given him looking at it as if it had bitten him. She deliberately scuffed her shoes on the floor to let him know she was there, not wanting to startle him. With a quick intake of breath he wrenched his head towards her flinging tiny drops water from his wet hair splattering it onto her upper body and face. As she smeared it off of her cheek she noticed that his expression showed just a flash of fear before he settled his eyes on her. It made her wonder how long it had been since he was able to be fully at ease and not apprehensive about being caught. She’d heard his story from multiple sources, Varric’s book as well as directly from the dwarf, Hawke, and general rumors were all consistent about Anders‘ early life. He had been running every chance he’d gotten since he was no more than thirteen years old, never giving up the hope of freedom. Now that the Chantry was all but obliterated after the Conclave and the Templars were unleashed as it were, Anders was surely far more on edge than usual.  
  
    He held the offending garment up with two fingers flaring his nostrils as he asked, “Is this a joke?”  
  
    “No it’s a shirt,” she deadpanned.  
  
    “Ha ha, so funny. Why is it so … Orlesian?”  
  
    “There’s a tabard to wear over it and a mask in there too. Your cover while we’re traveling is a court healer on his way to the Kirkwall estate of an Orlesian dignitary.”  
  
    She could see he was gearing up to refuse but then it was as if he had begun arguing the pros and cons of the plan within his head. This must be what it’s like when he talks to Justice, she thought. She could see both sides of the argument he was having with himself. He’d screw up his face at once and then raise his eyebrows as if he’d just made a good point. She was thankful for the mask he’d be wearing to cover his all too expressive face while they traveled.  
  
    Eventually he seemed to come to a conclusion asking, “What do you mean my cover?”  
  
    “Hopefully it won’t matter but should we come across trouble it would be much easier to sneak a stuffy Orlesian courtier past Princypoo’s men.”  
  
    He laughed at that and then asked, “Not that I’m complaining, anyone hating that smug brat is fine by me, but what’s your story with Sebastian?”  
      
    “I don’t hate him, I was almost indifferent to him until I met him. A few days ago I came across him while I was tracking you. I didn’t know enough about him to construct an identity so I fell back onto Hilde, a trusty one that usually gets me past Chantry types. She’s meek and faithful and recites The Chant more often than is probably healthy. I pretended to have lost my horse, even put on a good limp like I’d been thrown. He was so preoccupied with finding you that when I swooned near him he didn’t even look at me.”  
  
    “One of his men got me to a bed roll to be more comfortable and I listened to them plot while I pretended to be passed out. His intentions are singular, he will do anything within his power to kill you, no matter how many people he has to go through to get to you. He tried to invade Kirkwall to find you, you know. He had every intention of killing every ally you ever had there. Anyone who is so preoccupied with the death of one man that they can’t see the people in front of them is at least worthy of my contempt.“  
  
    She settled herself near the fire to warm herself pulling the bag of food toward her as she sank down. She meant to eat some dinner but scowled when she realized he‘d left most of the food untouched. He’d only eaten an apple and some cheese, so she passed one of the rolls to him while she chose her own food. He took it and tilted his head in thanks breaking off a small bit and popping it into his mouth. Hawke had mentioned an over active appetite so she’d packed a lot of food, maybe too much time on the road had tempered that appetite.  
      
    She continued explaining her encounter with Sebastian between bites of cheese and meat. “Once they were all asleep I stole their boots and untied their horses. I also spiked their water supply with a mild toxin that would have them sick for most of the next morning. I wonder how long it took them to find the river I threw the boots into.”  
  
    He’d listened captivated and when she finished he asked. “They were almost on your heels how’d they catch up with you?”  
  
    “I’m not sure but I suspect someone spotted you along your way to that inn. You’re not good at being inconspicuous on the whole. You’re good at blending into a crowd I’ll give you that but you give yourself away by … being you. The people in this area aren’t rich, most would sell out a healer they don’t know for enough coin. Since I was doing my best to stay out of sight I didn’t stop to ask about the tall blond guy that heals every ailment he comes across.” He started to protest but she waved him off and said, “At the inn I almost gave up looking for you thinking you weren‘t in the tavern. I was ready to go searching rooms when _you_ found me. All I had to do was cough and you were right there automatically treating me as a patient.”  
  
    That seemed to stall his thoughts because he shut his mouth and just looked at her for a long few seconds. He shrugged and pulled the tunic on frowning down at the ornate copper embroidery along the sides. “This looks like something Varric would wear.”  
  
    “It doesn’t show enough chest hair for his taste.” They both snickered and she said, “They told me you don’t sleep well, but surely you’re exhausted. You can sleep first and I’ll take watch.”  
  
    He shook his head and continued the conversation, “They told you a lot about me didn’t they?”  
  
    “Mostly Hawke, but Varric is very observant when it comes to people. He’s the one that suggested the chokedamp, he said it would be enough to make me sick but not actually do much damage as long as you healed it quickly.”  
  
    “Why did they send you?”  
  
    “Why did they send me personally or why do they need you?”  
  
    “Both.”  
  
    She shrugged knowing the answer to one would be less than satisfactory to him and the answer to the other would be taxing on her. “They sent me because my skills would allow me to gain your trust as well as hide you while we travel. I don’t know what exactly they need you for, they didn’t tell me, but I do know that whatever problem or crisis they have you are integral to solving it. Hawke seemed almost panicked until I agreed to find you then he got really excited and spoke so quickly Varric had to repeat half of what Hawke said. I‘m guessing it has something to do with either your healing skills or your …,” she waved her hand in his direction looking for a word, finally settling on, “hitchhiker. Maybe both actually.”  
  
    He need a moment to digest that or maybe to process his thoughts because he was silent for several breaths. “What skills do you have that they thought were so useful?”  
  
    “Finally a question I can answer easily,” she rolled her eyes but plowed on when he didn’t detect her sarcasm. “I am a copycat. I can mimic almost anything from accents to body language. I am also a bard and an assassin. I was raised to be what I am from such an early age that I don’t remember much from before the training started. I speak six languages fluently, and read five of those. No one in Par Vollen could read Tevene while I was growing up so there was no one to teach it to me. Slaves in Tevinter don‘t read and most of the Tevinter Viddathari were former slaves. There was no way the Tamassrans were going to send me to Tevinter either so it’s been a blank spot in my skills but recently I’ve been learning a bit here and there thanks to a friend. I speak a bit of Elvish that I‘ve picked up while down here in this iceberg you all call the South. I’ve actually met some Dalish that don’t speak it as well as me, but I am not fluent in it. I read a person to determine what they need to see and hear to trust me. Then I build identities and use them to get close to my mark. I’ve charmed a king, a few Deshyrs and the occasional diplomat to get close enough to them to either gather information or kill them. Mostly my assignments were to gather information meant to determine if an invasion was necessary, it never was. I"m rarely sent to kill a target out right but it happens.  
  
    She pointed at him after brushing crumbs from her chest and said, “you are particularly easy to read by the way, you’re eyebrows alone scream every thought you have. I’ve been studying you since we left the inn, I’ll definitely be adding some of those gestures and expressions to my repertoire”  
  
    He grinned and said, “happy to help.”  
  
    “If you cooperate with me, I’ll see you safe in a mansion in Hightown in Kirkwall within the week. If you don’t cooperate with me, I might put something in your food to keep you unconscious and just hire a carriage to transport you there. Well, probably not but you can’t blame a girl for wishing to take the path of least resistance.”  
  
    His eyebrows shot up with mock disdain and he said, “My dear lady, nothing I ever do is the path of least resistance, the Maker would never be so kind to me.”  
  
    “Yes well, your maker seems to be a bit of a dick if you ask me. Either he abandoned everyone or he fucks with the world constantly. No one seems to understand that you can’t have it both ways but either choice is shitty.”  
  
    That had him belly laughing to the point that he bowed far enough forward to touch his head to his knee. When he recovered he said, “I suppose you have a point. Coming from a culture that doesn’t seem to have a higher power I suspect us Southerners seem very stupid to you.”  
  
    “Well, yes, but not because you believe in an all powerful being. It’s because you believe in that being with no proof of his existence and indeed the more proof that he’s gone the better according to the Chantry. You have to admit, it’s a very backwards way of thinking. What do I know though.”  
  
    Anders stretched and stood up to walk around the room, touching things at random as if the activity helped him think. “You were raised as a Qunari?”  
  
    “I was raised Viddathari yes. I don’t know how I came to be there, probably the product of a runaway slave that was pregnant when she got there. I’m Tal Vashoth now though, I left the Qun four years ago. Right around the time a mage blew up a Chantry in Kirkwall and a revolution started.”  
  
    He ignored the dig at his past and asked, “Is that why you don’t have a name? The Qunari in Kirkwall all seemed to have titles, none of them seemed to have individual identities.”  
  
    “Yeah, once I left I lost my title and I don’t relish the idea of being called ‘Tal Vashoth’ forever. My employer, The Iron Bull, named himself when he got here but I saw no need. Generally I have a name attached to whatever identity I’m using when I’m on assignments. I’ve also spent so long going from one name to another that I’m good at remembering what individuals know as my name. I’ve been Aisling, Brigid, Camreon, Dalany, Elise, … The point is I adapt to names and nicknames easily but I don’t feel the need to claim one as mine. You can call me anything you want, pick a name, any name that you’d like and I’ll be okay with it.”  
  
    He turned back to look at her appraising her again like she was a curio instead of a person, “Justice didn’t need a name either, it’s a concept that he doesn’t actually understand. The need to quantify everything is too abstract for him.”  
  
    “I understand the need for other people to have names but they have a singular identity. I don’t, I have a hundred people in my head and I am all of them and none of them. I wanted to stay in character so you’d have someone to trust and I wouldn’t have to explain so much. It’s … taxing to try to explain something that most people don’t have a frame of reference for, but Hawke and Varric both agreed that you would trust me more if I was out of character so here I am. Boring nameless me. I could go back to being Felda if you’d prefer. She’s the sick girl from the Anderfels you met in the tavern. She was good enough to get you into a quiet room for explanations, she should be good enough to get us through to Kirkwall with fewer interrogations.”  
  
    He scrunched his face up and shook his head sharply. “No that would just be weird now that I know it’s fake.”  
  
    “She’s no less real than who you’re talking to right now and she even has a name. I know who her mother is, even what she sounded like when she read Felda a bed time story each night. I based her on a girl I met in a tavern in Nevarra. She and her mother both worked there and I got to know them pretty well. I know more about some of my identities that I know about me.”  
  
    This seemed to be the wrong thing to say because he actually looked angry. “Are you playing a part now? Are you always playing a part? Maker what else do you fake?”  
  
    She snorted at his innuendo. “Not that, the Tama’s are good at their job.”  
  
    “I don’t think I even want to know what that means.”  
  
    “Fine,” she groaned raising her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “I am not faking anything right now but my life has been full of these identities to the point that I don’t know where they end and I begin.” She shifted restively becoming agitated again. “Do I really like strawberries or was that Geraldine the Chantry lay sister that I constructed to spy on a Mother who was smuggling Viddathari children down here to Fereldan? I’d have to taste a strawberry right now to remember if it was something I actually enjoyed or if it’s just something I have to remember in case I need to be Geraldine again. I‘d never had one before her and I haven‘t had any since then.”  
  
    She thought for a second and decided to take a new approach. “So should I call you Anders or Justice? You are both yes? Do you know what are your preferences and his? What are his reactions versus yours?”  
  
    He seriously considered that and softened a bit when he said, “No, I don’t know where he stops and I start and that terrifies me. How do you live with all these … people in your head?”  
  
    “Well, to be fair it’s not like I can have a conversation with any of them and they can’t take over whenever they want. I don’t act counter to my own morality while I’m in character but I will do and say whatever the character would within my own boundaries. The simplest explanation I have is that the characters are the ones that formed most of my memories from my adult life so the concept of who I am is tied up in all of them. They aren‘t separate from me, they are me as much as this is me.”  
  
    “So what do you know about,” he waved his fingers searching for a good word then settled on, “default you?”  
  
    “Hmm, I like to learn new things. It helps me strengthen my identities. The more about the world I know the more I can fit puzzle pieces together to bolster each character.”  
  
    “So are all of your preferences based on your job?”  
  
    She took a breath cocking her head to the side and considered that. “Yes and no. I enjoy singing, it’s something a lot of my identities do as bards, but do enjoy it.  Conversely I’m not really fond of storytelling but courtiers eat out of my palm with each story. I hate almost all alcoholic beverages but one of my identities had a drinking problem, that‘s actually how I know I hate them all. I don’t have a particular fondness for cheese but some of my identities love it and others hate it.”  
  
    She shrugged and raised her hands, “I have no easy answer for you Anders. I have never been able to explain it to anyone that didn’t already understand it, even among spies my skill set is rare. Before I left the Qun I never had to explain it period, no one cared enough to ask as long as I did my job. You’ve spent pretty much your whole life just being you and I’ve spent pretty much my whole life being everything but just me. Default me is boring, you‘d probably like one of the others better.”  
  
    It was his turn to sigh now, “I didn’t say I dislike you but it is becoming something of a Maker damned problem trying to get to know you. Though I suppose I do trust you. You wouldn‘t know half of what you do about me without knowing Hawke and you did have Mother‘s pillow.” He thought for a second and then asked, “What do you think of me? You, not any of your characters?”  
  
    “I think your ok I guess. I can objectively understand what you might want or like to hear. Maybe something like ‘Anders you’re a revolutionary, without you the world would never have changed.’ I could but I won’t patronize you. I’m not sure what I think of you yet, other than you ask a lot of questions and you have pretty eyes.” With that she stood up and said, “now, I’m exhausted from all this explaining so either you sleep first or I do.”  
  
    “I’ll take first watch, you go ahead and get some rest.”  
  
    As she moved to a corner of the room she removed her swords and pulled her coat off. She laid the swords next to her and then dragged her pack under her head to use as a pillow. She tucked her coat around herself like a blanket and closed her eyes. They shot back open as she felt a touch on her arm.  
  
    “Here use my pillow, it’ll be more comfortable than your pack.”  
  
    “Thank you but are you sure? Hawke made it sound like that pillow was the most important thing you had ever owned and you just got it back.”  
  
    “It is but I still want you to use it. Whether you’re doing it to help me or your doing it because you’re being paid you saved me back there in the inn. It’s the least I can do.”  
  
    When he smiled this time it was so sweet and open that she almost needed to pull away. He really did wear that bleeding heart of his on his sleeve just like Hawke said. At that moment she was certain that if she had known him four years ago she would have known everything he had planned at least three moves before he planned it and she could have stopped him. She wasn’t certain, however, that she would have stopped him. Not knowing what she did now at least. four years ago she had a very different opinion of magic and mages as well as the concept of freedom.  
  
    She took the pillow thanking him again and before setting it on top of her pack, reverently to show him that she understood this was an olive branch, she pulled out a couple of books and offered them to him to read while he stood watch. He thanked her and crossed the room back to the fire, settling down in as comfortable a position as he could find to read. Thanks to the long day and the long conversation, she was asleep almost immediately once she closed her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 11/29/15 Edited for errors and some fairly glaring inconsistencies in the timeline and character descriptions.

    Anders settled himself in front of the fire to read one of the books she‘d loaned him. He’d purposely left his back to her to avoid staring but he couldn’t help stealing looks every once in a while. She was a restless sleeper, constantly shifting, mumbling and stretching and every time she did it drew his attention. He could see her face now and he figured this was the truest incarnation of her that he’d get to see on this trip so he committed it to memory in case it changed again. Her eyes were closed but they’d been close enough while they spoke next to the fire for him to know that her eyes were very dark, almost black. Her hair was dark brown, she wore it in in a sloppy half bun half pony tail.  
  
    Her face was round with high cheekbones and a soft chin and jaw line. Her mouth was wide but her lips were just this side of full. He couldn’t peg what race she was, given what she had told him he thought she probably couldn’t either, but she did have an over all human quality to her. He knew from his experience in Darktown that the children that were of mixed races seemed to have predominately human features with hints of the other race here and there.  
  
    She stretched and mumbled again and as she settled back down she drew her hand across her face like a cat napping in a sunbeam. With that he decided he had a name for her. It wasn’t terribly creative given he loved cats and she had called herself a copycat but he decided that she didn’t seem to need him to be creative in his name choice. He couldn’t go on calling her Her after all, that was getting awkward even in his head.  
  
    He let his mind wander back to Hawke for a while when he realized he wasn‘t going to be able to focus on the book. Being away from him this long was hard, but the thought of finally seeing him again almost made his heart ache just as much as the distance had. Anders was certain that once he fulfilled whatever task Hawke needed him for that he would slip away again and do a better job at fading into obscurity this time. He had put the other man in so much danger in their time together that he was amazed when Hawke let him live after the Chantry explosion. That Hawke agreed with him was more frightening than almost anything he could think of. He left Kirkwall the moment he could and never had any intention of going back. He wanted to save Hawke the trouble of harboring a fugitive now that his work was done.  
  
    He expected that time away from the chaos would have soured Hawkes opinion of him but Hawke had sent someone to collect him, surely he wouldn’t do that if he hated Anders. Cat, did say that Hawke had told her that Anders was integral to whatever they had planned. Maybe it wasn’t that he still thought of Anders as a friend but that he was using a resource he needed. But when she gave him the pillow back at the inn she had referred to Hawke as his best friend. Were those Hawkes words? Did Hawke think of Anders as a friend still or did he tell her that Anders would still think of him as a friend? Anders thought of Hawke as much more than friend. At one time he had longed for Hawke to feel the same way but now the thought of dragging Hawke back into this life was too much to bear.  
  
    After all this time he wasn’t even sure anymore if it was the man he loved or the idea of the man. Hawke was a force of nature, at times he was even like a natural disaster. Like a hurricane raged around him and the only safe place was next to him at the eye of the storm. Proximity doesn’t always make for a good examination though, and the distance and time had given Anders space to think. Hawke was a lot of things witty, sexy, protective, controlling, aggressive, sweet, devious, still no one seemed to feel quite so deeply as Anders did and he had wondered if it was something other than romantic love. Hero worship maybe. Hawke reminded him of Karl so much at first that Anders had actually distanced himself a bit in his grief. Then when Justice began growing in strength Hawke seemed to be the only light he could see leading him back to sanity more than once.  
  
    Everyone loved Hawke in one way or another. Indeed Hawke seemed to love them all in his way as well but Isabella got the most attention. She did tend to shove her breast in ones face when she was feeling under appreciated though so that made sense. He wondered if they were together still. Cat didn’t mention her but he remembered the way those two looked at each other near the end. Like at any moment they might just run away from the shit storm and sail the world together. Truthfully it was surprising that they’d stayed in Kirkwall as long as they did. They’re relationship was hard to interpret, they always seemed flippant about it but they’d also seemed to only have eyes for each other. It sometimes made Anders wonder if he would know what a real relationship looked like, he’d certainly never seen one in the circle and hadn’t spent much time examining the ins and outs of love while he’d been running.  
  
    He heard Cat shift again saying something under her breath that he didn’t catch. When he turned around to look at her she was rising, rubbing sleep from her eyes and stretching. Again it reminded him of the way a cat stretches, a long slow linear pull on the muscles tipping up on her toes and then drawing back down to her center. “I thought of what to call you.”  
  
    “Hmm,’ she said sleepily, “what would that be?”  
  
    “Cat.”  
  
    “Okay.”  
  
    That she didn’t question it was surprising to him and he said so. She shrugged and said, “I told you’d I’d be okay with whatever you picked. Once I’m on another job I’ll be someone else and Cat will just be the name I have to remember when you’re around if I see you again.”  
  
“That’s almost …”  
  
    “Cold? I know, but Anders, I’m a member of a mercenary company and a spy, I was only hired to bring you to Kirkwall. We’ll probably never see each other again after that. Besides, it’s not the worst nickname I’ve been given, not the most creative either. Now go over there and try to rest. We have a long walk until the next town, we’ll get some horses there.”  
  
    He did as she said but was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get any actual sleep given everything running through his head. He would have been grateful for how wrong he was about that had he not passed out almost immediately. It had been a long day for both of them after all.  
  
\-----  
  
    Cat. Well it was better than Kitty she supposed. An elven  prostitute had called her Kitty once but he was being decidedly vulgar. Anders didn’t seem to be working along that line of thought so she accepted it. The name was for his benefit anyway, she was just surprised he came to it so easily. She figured he would hem and haw some more before he finally decided on one.  
  
    She attended her morning ritual and then settled down to read the book Anders had chosen and left on the bench. It was a book on herbalism that she had picked up in Redcliffe from the shady dwarven merchant. She wasn’t an apothecary by any means but she might need the information for an identity at some point so she buried herself in the book. She’d been reading for about three hours when she heard one of the alarms she had set.  
  
    She quietly moved to Anders and shook him awake with a silencing hand on his mouth, whispering, “one of the alarms went off, I’m going to check it out. It’s probably nothing but be prepared to run.”  
  
    With that she turned and slipped through a loose board in one of the walls at the back of the shack. Anders was awake immediately, an ability he picked up after a lifetime of running. His fingers itched for staff but he had lost his a few months back and hadn’t had enough coin to replace it yet. He didn’t need it for healing but without it in a fight he was left with no way to focus and target.  
  
    He moved to one of the windows to look through the threadbare curtains making out several roughly person shaped shadows shambling around. He heard one shout, “Damnit! Was that a fucking tea kettle?” Anders realized that the man had stepped into one of Cat’s traps and had been beaned in the head with something. It probably was a tea kettle, she seemed the type to use what was around her to her advantage. He thought he could make out her shadow up on the ridge behind the intruders and assumed she was trying to get behind them without alerting them to her presence. The accent he’d heard was decidedly Fereldan so he wanted to be sure this was a situation that needed force before he allowed her to just kill them all. It would be a shame if they were just looking for refuge or goods to loot and sell to get some food. He hastily stepped out onto the stoop past the entrance and shouted “Who’s there?”  
  
    When the other man spoke up Anders concluded that his plan had been pretty stupid because the first words the intruder said were, “Lookit here boys it’s the mage that prince fellow was looking for. Maker’s smiling on us, this was too easy.”  
  
    Anders geared up to cast an area fire spell and hoped that it didn’t go too wide and start a wild fire. Before he released the spell he noticed Cat standing on the ridge doing her best to catch his eye. She was making a gesture with her hands that he at first assumed was rude but then realized she was trying to tell him to keep the men distracted. He snuffed the spell out and changed tactics.  
  
    “So that little shit couldn’t even come for me himself huh? Guess he’s afraid of the revolutionary mage.”  
  
    The man shook his head stepping forward and said, “He’s got a broken arm thanks to whatever you did to the stable doors. Said he’d pay us extra to bring you back alive so he can slit you’re throat himself.”  
  
\------  
  
    When he’d first come outside Cat could have killed Anders herself for his stupidity but she swiftly realized he could give her the advantage to end this fight quickly. She caught his eye and motioned for him to get and hold the attention of the men. There were five of them total, at the moment she was sneaking up on the only archer of the group. He would be the easiest to kill and had the most potential to hurt Anders before he could try to defend himself so he had to go first.  
  
    When she got close enough she realized he was an elf and just a little taller than her. That was helpful, smaller targets are easier to neutralize quickly. She burst forward and in one rapid movement she pulled an arrow from his quiver while she wrapped the other hand around his head and pressed it to his mouth to keep him from crying out. She pulled his back flush with her body to brace him then used the stolen arrow to stab up under his ribs several times. When she was sure he was dead she silently lowered the body to the ground.  
  
    She heard the leader confirm that Sebastian had sent them. He also confirmed what she hoped, the prince had been the one to get the brunt of the grenade. He was too eager to hunt the mage down to let someone else go first. Good, that broken arm would slow him down and give her even more of an advantage in hiding Anders. She stealthily moved onto the next closest target. This one was a burly human, probably an ex templar given the stance he was taking with his sword and shield. She hadn’t noticed that from a distance and kicked herself for not taking care of him first. She pulled the small knife she kept in her boot and dove in a low lunge taking his legs out from under him. She arced around as he fell so that she was above him then landed on top of him with one hand clamped onto his mouth. She slit his throat with her other.  
  
    The next two had heard her taking the templar down so she had to deal with them openly. She threw the knife at one, landing it in his eye and then drew her swords. She took a running leap towards the other one hammering feet first into his chest feeling the shock all the way up to her hips. She used the momentum of the fall to bring both swords down and through his rib cage in a brutal surge of movement.  From there she pulled the swords from the dead mans chest and shot back up charging toward the other one with both swords. The force of them ripping into him was enough to almost lift him off of his feet.  
  
    The last two attacks were loud enough that she lost the advantage of stealth but the final target didn’t seem to mind that his companions were dead. He held twin daggers, swinging them absently as if by habit rather than show. He sized Cat up and she could tell he was not going to underestimate her abilities. She had just killed four men before they even had much of a chance to react. She knew this guys type though, he was going to assume that she would fight in one style and attack accordingly. What he didn’t know was that Cat didn’t fight in one style. When she fought she used every tactic and maneuver she had ever witnessed. She knew how unpredictable it made her but this idiot didn’t. And he never would.  
  
    Before Cat could even formulate her first move to attack the final target he was frozen solid along with all of the vegetation on a large circle around him. There were large chunks of ice the size of small dogs gathered at his feet. She was confused at first having momentarily forgotten that her companion was a mage. She turned to see Anders standing to the side of the man with a thick board in hand. He smashed into what was essentially a human shaped ice sculpture and the man fractured in one hit. It created a sickening screeching jangle that had Anders and Cat both clamping hands onto their ears.  
  
    When the sound abated Cat smiled widely and whooped out a huge tension releasing laugh at Anders. “That was bloody fucking brilliant Anders. Nice job.”  
  
    Anders gave her his most charming smile and said, “Thanks that has always been my favorite part of fighting.”  
  
    Cat walked passed Anders on her way into the house, reaching backwards as she passed him to thump him on the chest and said, “Looks like we’re both awake now, I need a bath first but we might as well get moving soon. We’ve got to find a Chantry on the way, you owe me a streak through one.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Cat flirting because reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 11/29/15 Edited for errors and some fairly glaring inconsistencies in the timeline and character descriptions.

    Anders helped Cat break down the traps and then packed up the supplies that she had stashed in the house while Cat took a bath in the tepid water he‘d used earlier. He offered to heat it but she insisted that she didn’t need him to, it was already used water, heating it wouldn‘t make it better. Anders still wasn’t happy with the clothing choice, the mask alone was enough to give him fits, but he grudgingly admitted that covering his face made sense. He’d tried to do as much with his own clothing choices, he’d ditched his old beloved feathered coat for a heavy plain black duster that had a hood, which he wore pulled down over his face when he was moving among groups of people. A hood didn’t quite offer the same amount of anonymity though, so he’d given in and agreed to wear the mask.  
  
    The fabric was an adjustment of a different kind. He’d spent most of his adult life outside of the circle living in self imposed poverty, especially after merging with Justice, expensive clothing had not been a part of his wardrobe. These clothes were made of fine fabrics and they felt sinful against his skin. The money they were worth would have funded his clinic in Kirkwall for half a year. The breeches were a dark midnight blue cashmere with a copper band of embroidery running down each leg into beautiful black wyvern skin boots. The tunic he’d worn last night was a bit wrinkled but it didn’t matter as it was now covered with a copper hued tabard cinched at the waist with a matching wyvern skin belt. It all hung just a little too loosely on him but it would do. The mask had a cowl the same color as his tunic to cover his hair. The cowl attached to an ornate copper face plate which covered almost his whole face, showing just his mouth and chin. When he finished dressing he said, “I’m decent, how about you?”  
  
    I’m dressed but I’m not quite finished yet. Come here please.” He took in the changes she had made to her appearance once he‘d entered the smaller bathroom. She had changed out of her leather amour into a simple pair of cotton leggings and a sleeveless top, both were the same midnight blue of his breeches but they had no adornments. Over that she wore a long cream colored tabard with a wide neck that exposed her shoulders. She finished it with a copper sash about her waist and a pair of flat soled shoes. It looked similar to something he might have seen one of the elves in Kirkwall wear but the fabric, while plain, was a much higher quality than anything the elves in the alieanage would have worn. It made her look less formidable and gave the impression that she was smaller than he had supposed she was the night before. She was transforming again and it fascinated him that even while he was witnessing the process he was falling for the illusion again.  
  
    “Here, hold this.” She shoved a mirror into his hand and then dragged him toward the back window of the shack where the early morning light was spilling in. She applied kohl to her lower lash and then set to adding copper powder to her lids. The combination softened the depths of her irises and brought out the barest hint of a dark brown. That was probably the point, he’d thought to himself. When she was finished with her eyes she took the mirror from him.  
  
    She tied her hair into a bun at the top of her head then set to pulling on her mask. It was similar to his but the cowl was colored to match her tabard. Her copper face plate only covered her eyes forming the shape of a bow with the point above her nose. As she finished securing the mask to the cowl she accidentally brushed her hand over her nose, sucking in a pained breath at the contact. “Kaffas! I forgot that I’d hidden that.” She reached into her nose gingerly and freed a delicate horseshoe of silver. Anders realized that it was a piece of jewelry, pierced through her septum.  
  
    “Maker, that had to hurt. Where in Thedas would you get such a thing done anyway?”  
  
    “Rivain, I lived in Kon-tarr for a while to study Rivaini culture and learn to speak and read the language. I traveled outside Kon-tarr freely just absorbing everything. What better way is there to learn about a culture than to experience it firsthand? It was about a year before my first assignment. If you could call one piercing and a tattoo in the name of research a rebellion then you can count my time there as my rebellious teenage years. And yes they both hurt, more than I would probably tolerate for an adornment now.”  
  
    “A rebellion for sure, and a tattoo to boot. Where is it hmm?” He couldn’t help himself when he waggled his eyebrows, the mention of Rivaini tattoos had brought Isabella to mind and the gesture was a reflex, at least that was his excuse when Justice balked at him.  
  
    She looked up through her lashes artfully, “It’s on my sternum. It looks a bit like lace and it goes from here to here.” She traced her fingers along her chest in crescent just below her breasts which made Justice recoil further.  
  
   _Damn it_ , Anders thought at the spirit, _looking at the part of her body that she has drawn my attention to is not a crime._  
  
    Justice was having none of it though, he remembered what these sorts of flirtations led to, obsession and distraction.  
  
   _This isn’t Hawke though, it’s not the same, it’s just harmless flirtation._  
  
    Justice was so insistent that it practically gave Anders a headache. He recoiled mentally bringing his eyes back up and caught Cats gaze again in time to see the dark look there before it faded.  
  
    He recovered a bit and said, “you told me that default you is boring. A large tattoo and a nose ring are not the marks of a boring person.”  
  
    “Well something I did more than ten years ago doesn’t mean I’m exciting these days. Now lets get down to business. We need to get going soon and you need to know who you’ll be for the trip.”  
  
    The spell of flirtation was over and she was back to business but Anders could feel that the apprehension between them had changed. He had become a few degrees more comfortable with her thanks to that exchange which made him wonder if she had engineered it. It felt genuine, like she had enjoyed the flirting as much as he had, but hadn’t she told him her job was to make people trust her? He decided that for now it didn’t matter, as long as she was protecting him he’d go along with the plan.  
  
    “We’re going to Highever, from there we’ll board a ship to Kirkwall. If all goes well we’ll be there in a week, two tops. While we are traveling you’ll be Nicolas, the personal healer to the late Duke Bastion Du Ghislain. I am your assistant Isla. We are traveling to Kirkwall at the request of the Dukes mistress lady Vivienne de Fer, Enchantress of the Montsimarrd Circle and a member of the Inquisition. We were attacked on the way which is why we have no transportation or supplies. To save you remembering a lot of details your life is a good template so long as you remember that you were an orphan and you were sent to Montsimarrd Circle when your magic manifested. Above all, don’t offer personal information to anyone. Being stand offish is good here, even a bit haughty would work. You’re in a politically advantageous position, you are better than talking to the little people. We shouldn’t need to speak to many people along the way but if we do you need to remember who you’re supposed to be.”  
  
    As she spoke she fussed with his clothes, tucking here and adjusting there to be sure he looked just right. “When we get to the next town we’ll rent horses and buy some traveling supplies. Which reminds me, Hawke sent this for you.” She dug into her pack and pulled out a coin purse that looked full to the brim. “He said you should buy all of the supplies that you need to travel and keep the rest. He also said to tell you, ‘don’t spend it on healing every sick person in Ferelden and no kittens.”  
  
    She had trained her face into a pseudo serious scowl and deepened her voice in a perfect imitation of Hawke. It was accurate enough that if Anders had any lingering doubts about Hawke sending her they were gone. He shrugged and said, “he always knew me so well. Fine, no kittens but I’m not promising I won’t do any healing. If I’m needed I can’t walk away.”  
  
    “As long as you don’t slow us down, I’m okay with that. Now let’s go monsieur, we have a long walk.” He looked distressed, not the look of a person who was just given a large bag of money so she added, “what’s wrong?”  
  
    He waved his hand in dismissal and said, “it’s just .. I ..,” deep breath, “I thought Hawke might have sent for me because of some enduring friendship he felt. I’m surely not the only mage he could have contacted. This,” he jingled the bag, “just feels as though he’s paying me for a service. I don’t know I just … What impression did you get?”  
  
    Cat shrugged, “The way he described you was a mix. When he talked about your healing and clinic it was affectionately. He really admires that part of you, the part that is selfless. But when he told me about your actions at the Chantry, it was disappointment maybe a little fear for you. I don’t know what your relationship was, didn’t ask then don’t need to know now. For what it’s worth I got the impression that you damaged it but you didn’t break it.”  
  
    He accepted that with a nod. “Thank you, I hope you’re right about that.”  
  
\-----  
  
    Vashedan! Why had she been flirting with the mage? When she’d let it slip that she had a tattoo his reaction was obviously flirtatious but in a playful facetious sort of way. For whatever reason she had returned that flirtation with bedroom eyes and a gesture that made sure his attention was focused on her breasts. Even after she tried to calm herself by explaining the plan she couldn’t help but touch him. At first she just fixed his collar, but once she’d touched him the first time she’d found several more excuses to do it again.  
  
    Objectively she could admit that he was attractive. His eyes were that beautiful sunny brown that she was jealous of, but she was always jealous of people with colorful eyes. Upon inspection she’d realized she liked more than his eyes. His hair was quite long, something she disliked on most men but it seemed to suit him, especially once he’d let it down so the sleek blond layers had rested against his shoulders. That invoked the image of him shirtless after his bath, yes he was indeed pretty. Truth be told though she had had a crush on him while researching him, meeting him did nothing but encourage that crush.  
  
    She was not immune to the appeal of an attractive person but without the tempering guidance of an identity she didn’t know what to do with that attraction. She had no intention to pursue anything with the mage, that would be unprofessional and messy, but she was uncomfortable with the attraction without an identity to hide behind. Felda would have been demure and batted her eyes but not described the tattoo. On her own she had acted rather wantonly. He did seem to relax a bit once they’d had their moment of flirtation though so that was a positive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She speaks all the languages, why not have her swearing in them? 
> 
> Also a bit of ... relationship progression in the next chapter with a bit more about Cat. We know about Anders past so I need to fill hers in a bit as well. It's probably going to be a short chapter and then probably some of Anders being a badass in the one after that, he was a battle mage/arcane warrior in my Awakening play through so he'll always be a badass to me plus he's been on his own for three years so he's had to refresh those skills. There will also be more messing with the Chantry assface. I'm not a Sebastian fan so I'm taking a bit of a sadistic glee in poisoning him and breaking his arm and anything else I can think of to thwart him.
> 
> I'm forming a bit of a series in my head, what happens to love interest characters after the game if you don't enter a relationship with them. Cullen and Fenris are swimming around in my mind right now along with Dorian if The Bull was romanced although he might just land a boy in this one which I'll then branch out on their own story. Now I'm rambling so have fun reading. Leave a comment if you'd like even if said comment is, "this sucks why isn't Anders making out with Hawke?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat and Anders getting to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 11/29/15 Edited for errors and some fairly glaring inconsistencies in the timeline and character descriptions.

    They’d made good time reaching the next town by midday, though it wasn’t much more than a collection of houses with an open air market and a stable. They separated when they got there, Anders going to the market to stock up on things he’d need and Cat going to the stables, being sure she never let the mage out of her site for more than a minute even from a distance. She had made a deal with the stable master to rent the horses there then leave them with his brother in Highever. When she caught up with Anders at a fruit stand he was tucking a small package into is bag. He had purchased a simple staff while she had been at the stables. It was a long piece of smooth pale wood with several thinner darker gnarled branches wrapped around the top third and an herb cutting blade taking up the bottom third. The thin branches were laced with pieces of pale blue white crystals. Willow, ash, and spirit shards, a healers staff.  
  
    After they had finalized their last purchase they gathered their horses and set off to ride. Cat wanted to get to Elmridge before nightfall to rent rooms at the inn there so once they were away from town they took the face plates of their masks to eat lunch while they rode. When they’d finished the meal Anders fished around in his saddle bag to find the package that he’d bought earlier. He opened it to reveal two smaller bundles then guided his horse close enough to Cat’s to reach one of the bundles over to her. “Here I got these for you while you were getting the horses.”  
  
    She pursed her lips and creased her brow as she took the bundle. “What is it?”  
  
    “Open it and see,” he said with a wink.  
  
    She unwrapped her bundle as he opened his. Inside she found four large ripe strawberries, each as long as her thumb and twice as wide. The puzzled look she wore deepened as she turned to see his face. He’d already begun eating his, pink juice sliding out of the corner of his mouth, catching on his stubble. He wiped his thumb there sucking the escaped juice off with another wink. “Well eat up and we’ll know if you like them or if it’s just … was it Gwendolyn?”  
  
    “Geraldine. It was Geraldine.” She shook her head, trying to push the thoughts of that time out of her mind. There were not a lot of pleasant memories in that job but sharing the first strawberry she had ever eaten with a group of scared women and children was one of them. She couldn’t remember what they tasted like but she remembered the joy they had brought a child right before hell broke loose. She took a bite out of the largest berry in the bundle, careful to not let the juice dribble like the mage had. The sweet tartness rolled along her tongue forcing the syrupy smell of the fruit up to her nose. Her eyes squeezed closed as she remembered the crushing panic she’d experienced minutes after the first strawberry she’d ever tasted.  
  
    “Did I do something wrong?”  
  
    She bowed her head then shook it pushing back the emotion to speak. “No, they’re … Thank you, this was a nice gesture. It just brought up a memory is all.” Before she understood what she was doing she had begun telling him about the last assignment she had as a Vidatharri. “Four years ago I was given an assignment to bring back a group of Vidatharri that had been taken from Kon-Tarr. They were mostly women taken with no prior warning or indication of where they were going. At least that was the information I was given. They had been traced down here to Ferelden. I was sent to bring them back.”  
  
    “I found out that they were living under the protection of a Chantry Mother and an apostate named Milo in the Hinterlands so I created Geraldine to get close. I assumed that they had been taken and escaped from slavers, most of them were elves, but I was wrong. They had left willingly. They had all fled the Qun. They didn’t leave collectively like I had been told, they fled on their own with the help of a Rivaini smuggler. He’s part of a group that had been smuggling Vidatharri down here individually for years and they had finally tracked where he was taking them. They were mostly rebellious athlocks that had been scheduled to be sent to the re-educators.”  
  
    She rubbed her eyes with thumb and forefinger then continued. “I thought surely since none of them wanted to go back that we couldn’t force them. When I sent in a report I assumed that would be it and I would be called back. I received further instructions to wait until a unit came to help me collect all of the athlocks. They knew too much or were too valuable, either way they had to be brought back under the Qun. Some of them had kids, some of them really small. I don’t know, I suppose I couldn’t leave them to a fate of being forced into a role they might be good at but hate so I decided to help them run again. Turns out that didn’t meet the demands of the Qun.”  
  
    Anders snorted in a humorless sort of way and Cat continued with a bit of derision, “Shocking right. Anyway, when the unit got there most of the athlocks were gone but a few stayed behind, or had nowhere to go. One of them, Kieryn, was… attached to Milo, he was the father of her kid.”  
  
    “The agents that found us tossed a gaatlock grenade into the Chantry, I guess to flush us out. It didn’t do much damage and there were no injuries but it caused a good bit of chaos. We had been eating breakfast, just some fruit and sweet bread. It was the first time I’d ever had a strawberry, the last of them in the bunch. I remember Milo’s kid, Mara, was so proud of herself for saving it for me that I knew I had to pretend to love it whether I did or not. The explosion happened right after that and everything was so frenzied that I became reactionary and sort of blocked out all the other thoughts I might have had. I couldn’t remember what the berry tasted like for the life of me.”  
  
    When she trailed off, story unfinished, Anders quietly asked, “What happened?”  
  
    “The Mother took the women and children, along with Keiryn and Mara out of the back of the Chantry. Milo and I stayed behind to hold off the Ben-Hassreth to give them time to run. I was so panicked. I had never panicked before but I was panicked then because I had let these people go and was protecting them. I was disobeying. I didn’t think about there being agents at the back, not until I heard the kids screaming. It should have been my first thought, I would have sent someone back there if I was attacking but I was so panicked that I didn’t even think of it.”  
  
    “Milo set up this huge barrier spell to hold off the agents and pushed me out of the back door to help his family. When I got out there I found the Mother dead, most of the athlocks shackled and one of the two agents chaining up the rest of the kids while Keiryn was screaming like a banshee over Mara’s broken little body trying to fight off the other agent, this burly dwarf with half his face marked up with scars. He crushed her head with his maul, just cracked it open like the proverbial melon. I killed both of the agents so quickly I don’t really remember doing it. Then I got the shackles off of one of the women passing the key off to her and told them to run.”  
  
    She took a moment to breath, letting the memory settle a bit more and when she continued there was a bleakness in the words. “When I got back into the Chantry Milo was dead but so were all of the other agents. He had sacrificed himself to save his family from a fate of mindless labor or worse and thanks to my panic his death was a waste. I ran with the remaining athlocks until they were safe and then I just wandered for a long time doing odd jobs here and there. It wasn‘t until I met Bull that I stopped running.”  
  
    Her jaw clenched as she swallowed back the pain. “Milo and I had spoken about what would happen if Mara had been taken to Seheron or Par Vollen and started manifesting magic. She would have been collared and used as a weapon for the rest of her life or killed out right. Mind you when I met them I still wasn’t trusting of magic, but she was just a little girl, even I couldn’t force myself to believe that was an acceptable fate for her. After seeing Milo give literally everything he had to save his family my opinion of mages started to change.”  
  
    “I had always believed that submission to the Qun was voluntary. We all did our jobs willingly because it gave us certainty in a world where certainty was sorely lacking. Even some of the people that I knew had gone to the re-educators willingly to get their heads straight. After that I couldn’t go back.” She took another bite of the strawberry, this time rolling it on her tongue savoring the flavor. “So strawberries taste like… rebellion and sacrifice and maybe a little bit of love. They are… good though, thank you again.”  
  
    She continued eating, silent for a while examining the fruit as she ate it. She’d probably never eat another one, too many memories, but she was thankful for the gesture because it reminded her why she was Tal Vashoth, why she had chosen to leave the Qun.  
  
    After a while Anders said, “I knew a mage named Milo, in the circle here. He was a pyromancer.”  
  
    “He remembered you, said you were insane but you had the right idea. He had this crazy over blown story that you once swam across Lake Callenhad to escape.”  
  
    “I did.”  
  
    “Fuck off,” she threw a strawberry hull at him flippantly. “No one could swim across that lake and survive. It’s full of … things.” She shuddered then added, “isn’t it?”  
  
    “That’s the rumor, I didn’t encounter any. I’ve always assumed it was a lie to keep mages from trying to swim to freedom. How did I come up anyway?”  
  
    “It wasn’t like oh there’s this rebel mage Anders doing great things, or anything like that. I didn’t put two and two together until I’d studied you for this job. He had been an apostate for several years when I met him, he and Keiryn were runaways together. I asked why he ran away instead of just staying in the safety of the tower. ‘Simple,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t have Mara and Keiryn if I had stayed in the tower.’ He told me he escaped using one of your escape routes. You’re kinda famous among Southern mages you know. Which is why you need to put that mask back on.”  
  
    He seem to understand that she was done with this line of conversation, she didn’t want to relive any more memories. She was thankful when he put the mask back on and dropped that train of thought. She didn‘t to want to travel in silence though so while she replaced her own mask she asked “So tell me more about yourself.”  
  
    “What do you want to know?”  
  
    “Hm, I don’t know. How old are you?”  
  
    “I’m not entirely sure, late thirties though.”  
  
    She scoffed, “How do you not know how old you are? Aren‘t namedays a big deal for humans in the South?”  
  
    “I didn’t really have a good reason to keep up with it. In the tower no one really wanted to celebrate my name days with me. I spent a lot of time… alone. Since you asked me I’ll assume it’s okay to ask you the same thing.”  
  
    “Dunno, early thirties though.”  
  
    He tried to mock her earlier response asking, “How do you not know how old you are?”  
  
    “I was raised in a group of kids who were roughly the same age as me. We didn’t celebrate birthdays either. There was only one other kid who was exactly as old as me, my twin brother.”  
  
    “A brother? Isn’t that against the rules or something?”  
  
    She shrugged, “Generally you wouldn’t know your siblings from a hole in the ground but we somehow kept finding each other. I guess they intended to use us as a unit because they allowed it. We aren’t identical, but when we were little we were so much alike that the Tamassrans had a hard time telling us apart. There was this old elf lady from Tevinter, not a Tama but she had been a nanny before she escaped so she was assigned to help take care of the kids. She could tell us apart somehow. She called us the Geminus, twins in Tevene. Separately she called me Connatus, twin sister, and him Gemellus, twin brother.”  
  
    This is probably a bad idea he thought, but he asked anyway, “what happened to him?”  
  
    She went bit pensive maybe even wistful when she answered. “Dunno, one day when we were about ten he was taken away while we were studying. I never saw him again. I guess they decided he’d serve a better purpose in some other role.” Again she shifted focus to avoid reliving old memories, “What have you been doing since Kirkwall?”  
  
    “Well for a while I traveled with some of the mages that ran from the Gallows but they turned on me when a group of Templars found them out scavenging for supplies. The Templars told the others they would let them go if they’d hand me over so they did.”  
  
    “That didn’t end well did it?”  
  
    “No, the Templars had given one of the other mages a set of magic suppressing shackles to put on me. He came in alone with the Templars waiting outside. I didn’t suspect him until he got too close. He shackled me then dragged me out to the Templars.”  
  
    The bridge of his nose creased nostrils flared as he said, “the Templars wanted to make an example of me in front of the mages so they took the suppressing shackles off my wrists to chain me up for lashings. The shackles were the only thing holding Justice back. Once they were off he came out and took over. He killed the mages and the Templars. After that I’ve traveled alone, well until now.”  
  
    “You killed them Anders. You and Justice are one right?”  
  
    There was no accusation in her tone so he didn‘t take offense. “Sometimes he can take over and make me… do things, against my will.”  
  
    “Are you sure? Are you positive that you didn’t want those mages dead as much as you wanted the Templars dead? They betrayed you after all.”  
  
    This time he did let his anger rise a bit. She knew nothing about his situation. Before he could raise his voice at her, the logic of her statement took hold. Did he let Justice take over as an excuse? “Maybe I did want them dead but I wouldn’t have killed them myself, not without Justice.”  
  
    “You wouldn’t have done a lot of things without him would you?”  
  
    “Probably not, before I joined with him I was flippant and selfish. I would probably have wound up either back in a tower, branded or dead. I’m still not sure I should be alive after all I’ve done.” He was looking off into the middle distance then, seeing nothing, maybe seeing too much.  
  
    “Anders, look at me.”  
  
    He reluctantly dragged his gaze to her and was relieved that there was no malice in her face. “I’m not accusing you, I just… never mind, it’s not my place.”  
  
    “No, what were you going to say?”  
  
    “Look I know you just met me yesterday and know nothing about me but I’ve… studied you. I know everything that is documented about what you’ve done as well as what happened to push you do it. Also I’m good at reading people.” Deep sigh, just say it, “I just think maybe you don’t take responsibility for your actions because if you did you’d have admit that some of them were wrong. If you’re an abomination you didn’t abandon a cause. If it’s all Justices fault you didn’t leave the mess with your friends to clean up. If Justice did it then you can’t fix it.”  
  
    “Maybe, … maybe you’re right.”  
  
    “But Justice isn’t the man that cared so deeply about other people that he ran a free clinic in a sewer.” She shifted in her saddle to look at him more directly. “Do you understand that if you had played your cards right, ran to Tevinter or Rivain, you’d be rich right now. A spirit healer is rare, in Tevinter you’d be paid generously by some Altus family to keep their product, sorry child, from being marred by scrapes and bruises. In Rivain your connection to the fade would mean you’d be a hot commodity. I don’t know if having Justice there would be a plus, they tend to prefer possession in women, but you would have had a better chance there than you did in Kirkwall.”  
  
    She reached for him, squeezing his knee awkwardly from her saddle. “You had no reason to stay there but you did, you stayed and you did something crazy because you thought it was the right thing to do. Maybe it was, I don’t know if anyone alive today will know if what you did was right but you need to own it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the last of the backstory for now. Also my computer hates Qunlat so it tried to alter all the titles, they may not be spelled consistently. *shrug* Sorry 'bout that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 11/29/15 Edited for errors and some fairly glaring inconsistencies in the timeline and character descriptions.

    They entered an inn much like the one Cat had found Anders in the day before. Road inns and taverns tended to all look, sound, and smell the same. Anders approached the innkeeper to secure rooms while Cat went to the waitress to have meals brought to them. Before she reached the woman a coarse hand caught her waist and dragged her brusquely into a beer stained chest. She could smell the cheap ale on his breath as he said, “Looks like I found myself a pretty little Orlesian rabbit.”

  
    The drunk dragged his hand up her side and around her chest hooking in the front of her tabard trying to delve into the folds of the fabric, heated breath grating as it increased in speed. She fought the urge to defend herself knowing she needed to be exactly what he thought she was. An elvhen servant wouldn’t fight back. He had the sash at her waist almost undone lewdly muttering obscenities into the back of her head. When he jerked in a clenched spasm Cat thought he’d spent himself for a moment until she felt the ice on his fingers. Anders came into view then, a slight blue surging in the corner of his eyes behind his mask.

  
    He pried the mans hands off of Cat then shifted her to stand behind him. He understood without a word from her that she had allowed the degenerate to accost her to protect Anders’ identity and it served to fuel his ire. He released the man from the ice spell expecting him to run. Instead of fleeing though the man cocked his fist back to punch Anders. He was answered with a bolt of electricity that forced him to curl all of his muscles in on himself as he sank to his knees in agony, retching dryly as Anders released the spell. Anders lowered himself to be eye level with the drunk then quietly and oh so calmly said, “if you want to find out how long you can withstand this I’m game. I haven’t been in a good bar fight in ages.”

  
    The man whimpered and shook his head fervently, tears streaming down his face. Anders leaned back slightly tilting his head towards Cat. “Apologize. Now.”

  
    The man opened and closed his mouth several times, partially formed words falling silent each time before finally managing to croak out the words, “I’m sorry Ser Mage.”

  
    Anders wound fingers into the drunks filthy hair to jerk his face up to eye level again. He hissed through clenched teeth, “to the lady.”

  
    The drunk bristled, some bravado regained at the suggestion that he apologize to a woman he assumed was an elf. “I ain’t apologizing to no knife eared bitc…”

  
    The word was lost in the sound of Anders fist cracking into the drunks face. Again he dragged his head back up looking into his eyes, one word echoing through the tavern, “NOW!”

  
    The drunk released a sob from the back of his throat and stammered out, “I I I’m s s sorry ma ma miss.”

  
    Anders released the grip he had on the drunks hair and stepped back so swiftly that the man’s face rocked forward almost crashing into the floor in front of him. Doing so seemed to release a collective breath the room had been holding as voices, neither of them realized had ceased, picked back up again with a few whoops of praise added into the assembly.

  
    A tall broad man who could have stood for the universal example of what a Fereldan looks like scooped the drunk up by his collar while grunting apologies about letting this sort of thing happen. He dragged the drunk to the door, tipping him out like a trash bin then turned back to Anders and Cat apologizing again. When he introduced himself as the innkeeper Cat gathered that Anders had never made it to him to speak about rooms. He’d assumed that they were a couple thus insisted that they have the largest of the rooms as a compensation for the trouble and that he’d have dinner sent to them shortly.

  
    Neither one of them could figure out how to say ‘no we aren’t together in that manner’ without breaking the cover that Anders had just altered with his display of magic, so they accepted the idea of sharing a room for the night. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t slept in the same room last night, but that was different, this time there was no need for a watch so they’d be sleeping at the same time. Together. In the same bed. At least it was a big bed, though it took up of most of the small room. It was a road in after all so of course the biggest room was barely big enough for a big double bed without even leaving enough room to sleep on the floor.

  
    The innkeeper brought their bags up followed shortly by the waitress with bowls of stew, a bottle of wine and a pitcher of water. They had just enough time alone between the innkeeper and waitress for Cat to let Anders know that he would have to tell the staff to not disturb them as it wouldn’t be an elvhen servants place. “Even if she’s supposedly sleeping with her boss,” she added slyly. That earned an unexpected blush up his neck and a smirk from Cat. Good to know he can be flustered she thought. Once they were certain that they were alone for the night they stripped off the trimmings of their disguises leaving them both barefoot and in the bottom layer of their clothing. Best of all they were blessedly mask free.

  
    Anders shook out his hair to release the static that had built up from the cowl rubbing against it all day and Cat giggle. The laughed morphed into big hysterical gulps of air as she gasped out, “by the void I wish I could have seen your face down there. I can just imagine your attack eyebrows.” By then she was wiping legitimate tears from her eyes, exhaustion and adrenaline having taken their toll, but her amusement was genuine if not a little giddy.

  
    He knitted his brow, then thought better of it recognizing that he was being exactly as expressive as she had repeatedly accused him of being. He smoothed out his features before repeating what she‘d said, “attack eyebrows?”

  
    “Oh yes I’m certain you have great attack eyebrows, they probably strike fear in the hearts of Templars from thirty paces.” By then she was a little calmer, anxiety from the assault downstairs released. “Who knew you were the mage in shining armor type?”

  
    “I’m sorry about that, I know you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself I just …”

  
    “Brilliantly kept up your character. A bit too ‘brilliantly’ by the way, youy eyes were blue and glowing. You and I know that I could have broken that guys wrist then shoved his hand down his own throat for good measure but Isla can’t. You did pretty much exactly what Nicolas should have done. Well a little more than he should have done if Isla is just his assistant but still you did the right thing.”

  
    She settled on the left side of the bed, closest to the door and said, “Now lets eat, I’m starving and exhausted and we’re leaving here before sunrise if I can help it. Highever is just a days ride away.”

  
    Cat seemed to fall asleep immediately but didn’t seem to ever go fully under. Whenever Anders thought she had finally settled down he’d feel her shift or she’d make a noise and once she even woke up a bit as she rolled over. He did his best to ignore her and get his own rest but with every motion she’d inch a bit closer to him. Eventually she’d backed herself into his hip which seemed to calm her a bit. It was as if she was seeking a wall and finding none settled on using him as one. He rolled over so that his back was against hers to give her a more solid anchor. It worked, she’d settled down completely and he’d finally drifted to sleep with no further interruptions. Well no further interruptions until she woke him up, rather rudely if he had any say, before even the rooster thought about rising.

 

\-----

  
    Anders had once decided that if you’ve seen one port city you’d seen them all and Highever reinforced that thought. People were piled on top of each other their sweat mingling with fish guts from the trawlers and manure from the stables to create a pungent odor that had Anders breathing through his mouth. He asked, “so we’re In Highever, what’s the plan now?” Cat didn’t seem to notice that he was even speaking so he put a hand on her shoulder asking again.

  
    She turned to him slowly with more than half of her attention focused elsewhere. “Something is wrong.”

  
    Anders itched to run but found her hand on his arm steadying him. She rushed through her words as she guided him into the alley. “We’re meeting a Rivaini ship captain here, friend of Hawkes I think. There’s supposed to be a ship named The Sirens call Two but I didn’t see it.”

  
    “Isabella, of course it would be her.”

  
    He didn’t get to say more than that, Cat had pushed him further into the Alley pulling him to a crouch, with surprising strength, once she had him there. He was pulling a face and about to protest but she clamped a hand over his mouth. “Shhh,” she hissed venomously tilting her head indicating the street as Sebastian came into view arm in a sling. Anders didn’t miss the proud gleam in her eye at the sight of the broken arm.

  
    Then in a rush she moved Anders again, this time positioning him on his knees so that his back was to the opening of the ally. She pulled her mask and cowl off and gave him no chance to argue when she pulled his arms around her and pushed his face into her chest. She let loose a string of wanton moans as she scratched at his back dipping her nails into his collar and wrapped her leg around his waist.

  
    Anders head swam, fear of being caught mixing with a growing arousal as Cat perfectly mimicked the sounds one would make if they were well on their way to orgasm. He was relieved, and if he was honest with himself more than turned on, when she pushed away from him and helped him to his feet. When he was upright she noticed his partial erection and flushed the prettiest shade of red.

  
    She released a long stream of flustered obscenities ending in, “Shit… fuck… cock and bal… Nope wrong one. Damn it Anders, I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of anything else on the fly.”

  
    He adjusted himself with a wince then said, “Cat, we’re wearing masks. Wasn’t the point of that to hide me in plain sight?”

  
    She mumbled to herself, “Sometimes I forget that people don’t hear as well…” She was looking at anything but him until he tilted her chin up so he could see her face. When he asked for clarification she sighed, “I heard him before I saw him, he was telling his men to look for a man and a woman in Orlesian styled clothing and masks. He knows what the cover is.”

  
    “Andraste’s ass, how would he know that? What do we do?”

  
    “We’re probably safe enough here for the moment. He ran off like a scaled dog when he saw us. I guess he’s not keen on voyeurism. I‘m assuming the drunk that had his hands on me yesterday found Prince Fuckwad and told him about us.”

  
    She inspected the door to his right, that thanks to the distractions he had failed to notice until just then. She shook the knob, swearing again when she found it locked. She had an internal debate for a few breaths, but reached a decision quickly. She cocked her hip raising her left leg parallel to the ground then brought the entire force of her body down to that foot as it crashed beside the lock on the door. The wood shuddered and the lock gave way easier than it seemed it should. Anders was surprised to find that the display had sent a twinge back through his waning erection. He shuddered out an incredulous laugh and said, “How the fuck did you do that? You can’t weigh more than one of my legs.”

  
    She winked and gave him a sly smile. “They are long legs aren’t they.”

  
    “Ugh Cat, seriously stop that.” He adjusted himself again, this time blushing a bit.

  
    “Physics dear heart. The only thing keeping that door closed was a pathetic lock. If it were barred or even had a decent lock on it, it wouldn’t have worked. Good to know you like a woman that can kick your ass though.”

  
    As if to reinforce the idea she bodily shoved him into the room she’d just opened. Anders was preoccupied with the thought of being manhandled so he allowed it but made a mental note to prove her wrong later. Well maybe. Actually probably not but he’d think about it while Justice, who was already displeased, yelled at him for being distracted. Again.

  
    “We’re going to have to improvise. Take the tabard and mask off and the boots too. Put on your old boots and coat.”

  
    She was already undressing which caused Anders brain to go sluggish again. Luckily Justice was there to push him around mentally, forcing him into action. He turned to give her some privacy and to hide his face from her, specifically the flush of red that was creeping in there. _Damn it Justice_ , he thought, _stop doing that. You’ll make me pass out_.

  
    “Mess your hair up then tie it up again sloppily.”

  
    When he didn’t comply she turn him around and pulled the tie out herself then buried her hands in his hair mussing it. She pulled his hand up and deposited his tie in his palm brooking no arguments when she said, “Tie it back up sloppy.”

  
    While he was tying his hair she had brought out one of their canteens and a wash cloth scrubbing at her eyes in a way that surely had to hurt. She didn’t bother to remove all of the powder and kohl leaving the impression of dark circles. She had dressed in a pair of loose breeches tucked into warn boots and a worn but fitted tunic. She tied her hair up the same way she had instructed him to and pulled on a coat with a hood pulled over her ears. With a squaring of her shoulders and hips she transformed again, this time from a woman to a young man. Anders schooled his face, or at least tried to, to hide his shock. He’d gotten used to the idea of her transforming into different women but now she seemed to be able to literally be anyone.

  
    “Here, carry my bag,” she handed over her bag with the swords strapped to it, “and give me your staff.”

  
    “Cat, what if we get into a fight? I’ll need my staff and you’ll need your swords.”

  
    She took his staff from him, prying his hand off a bit then as she was turning to leave said, “they’re looking for a tall blond mage and a short brunette rogue. If we trade out it’ll add one more layer to the cover.”

  
    As she moved into the alley she scanned around looking for anyone who might be there to attack them. Finding it empty she motioned for him to follow and then asked, “you said you know this captain, if she’s in Highever where would she be?”

  
    “The seediest tavern as close to the docks that she can find.”

  
    “Okey let’s go find the seediest tavern in Highever.”  
  
\-----  
  
    It didn’t take long to find her, they followed the fishermen that had just docked from a long trip. They were rewarded with a tavern named Conobars Spear. It didn’t seem possible to smell worse than it did inside the coat room, that was until they entered the taproom. Cat clenched and worked her jaw to hold back her gag reflex. Vomit, piss and body odor mixed with beer and wine to make a sickly sweet pungency that would have tested the constitution of an archdemon. Despite that the pirate captain was laughing and carousing like she was in a room full of roses.

  
    When they approached Anders called out her name. The pirate sidled up to him pressing herself into his side like he belonged to her. Cat felt an urge to pull Anders away before he broke the contact himself with an uncomfortable sidestep. Unperturbed the pirate wrapped her arms around his waist and tipped her head up to whisper in his ear. Cat had had enough when she saw the vexation on his face. The pirate was obviously drunk and Anders was trying to get her attention focused on his face, gently, so that she would recognize him but she just kept grinding against him.

  
    Cat wrenched Isabelas arm behind her body and shoved her into a nearby support pillar in the center of the room. If she was a bit rougher than was strictly necessary she didn’t admit to herself the reason no matter how angry the idea of anyone other than herself rubbing against the mage made her. Having her hands in his hair earlier was still affecting her now. She hadn’t expected it to be so silky and damn it if she couldn’t get the feeling out of her mind. She jerked up on Isabelas arm once for good measure and maybe a bit of punishment which garnered a pleased chuckle from deep in the pirates throat.

  
    “Mmm I’ve always liked a man who could hold me down and pull my hair,” she purred. “Anders, sweet thing, I’ve been waiting for you forever. If you call him off you and I can go to my room and talk this out.”

  
    Cat was pretty certain that the noise she made when she pushed the pirates head further into the post could have been categorized as a growl by most opinions but she pushed that thought from her mind when she said, “I go where he goes.”

  
    “Easy Cat, she’s not the enemy here.”

  
    Anders pulled at Cat’s shoulders gently which broke the wave of anger sweeping over her as she released Isabela with a rough shove. Braska, what the fuck was wrong her? She had known him for three days, how had she become a jealous mess in that time? Though if she were honest with herself, which she wasn’t going to be, she’d had a crush on him while doing her research. Especially while talking with Hawke who seemed to have had a bit of an old crush as well. That thought had her clenching her fists and flaring her nostrils again only to be calmed once more by Anders touch. He slung his arm across her shoulder companionably pulling her in for a side hug.

  
    When she registered the drop in the tone of his voice she realized she had missed something he had said. “Hmm?” she asked noncommittally.

  
    He leaned down closer as if he thought she just couldn’t hear over the ruckus and spoke directly into her ear. She barely suppressed the shudder that wanted to creep over her as his breath tickled her ear. “Follow the pirate sweetheart. She knows where we’re going.” She could hear the grin in his voice as he added, “oh and, if I misbehave accidentally on purpose would you manhandle me that way?”

  
    Fuck she wanted to pull the tie out of his hair again and bury her nose in it this time. Instead she followed them both to a dingy room just off of the main tavern where Isabela seemed to hold court over a crew of sailors. With a gesture she had them all rushing off to prepare for departure. After an exclamation of surprised admiration at how convincing Cat’s disguise was Isabela explained that docking a known pirate ship in such a large port was suicide. The Sirens Call Two was anchored off shore and they’d get to her via a smaller boat. They were leaving through the back door when they were rushed by a small group of men who seemed mostly intent on Anders which had Cat seething again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight 12th Doctor reference there, I won't blame you if you miss it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 11/29/15 Edited for errors and some fairly glaring inconsistencies in the timeline and character descriptions.

    Five men, brutes all of them, barreled into the dead end alley toward Cat, Anders and Isabela. The trio swore in three different languages as they prepared for the fight. Instead of the inevitable clash a hail of arrows took out the first two men in the group as a lithe young man landed behind the third attacker kicking the brute forward towards Anders. A flash of white light and a curse in Tevene took the last two in the group down leaving just the one who had been in the middle. This one had gotten dangerously close causing a bit of panic to flurry in Cat. She spun Anders around to reach her swords still strapped to the pack that he carried. As she turned back around she swiped both swords out gashing the last attacker across the gut, warm blood sprayed across her face and clothing. She kicked him away for good measure then positioned herself between Anders and the archer and the … glowing elf.  
  
    Before she could threaten the new comers Anders and Isabella both said “Fenris?!” A vexation from one and an exclamation from the other.  
  
    The archer slung an arm over the elf raking his eyes up and down both Anders and Cat, ignoring Isabela. He grinned salaciously and said, “Don’t forget me.”  
      
    Fenris said, “Anders, Isabela, …” trailing off for want of a name for the third.    
  
    Anders, knowing Cat would tell Fenris she had no name cut in before she could and said, “This is Cat, she was hired to get me to Kirkwall.”  
      
    Fenris turned to his companion, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, “This is Gabrian, he and I have been … dealing with slavers drawn here by the refugee situation. Hawke sent word that he needed me to be here to catch a ship back to Kirkwall.”  
  
    Gabrian had been studying Cat, eyes roaming up and down and back again, since she had been introduced and when Fenris finished speaking he said, “Fenris, If I’d known you were going to be introducing me to such pretty boys today I would have dressed nicer.”  
  
    Fenris huffed more than half annoyed but with a touch of amused resignation as well, as if he’d become accustomed to his companion flirting so blatantly. The amusement almost gained traction when Cat looked at Gabrian and asked, “Do you eye fuck everyone you meet or was that just special treatment for little ole me?”  
  
    The archer worked his square jaw a bit in confusion pursing his lips. His bottom lip was framed by two rings on either side. Finally he asked, “Are you a boy or a girl?”  
  
    Cat’s response had the other three chuckling as Gabrian slipped further into confusion. “If you can’t tell does it matter?”  
  
    He thought about it for a moment then lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug, cracking his face into a full lopsided smile that set his blue eyes to sparkling. “Guess not. Besides I really only have eyes for grumpy white haired elves these days.” He let out an exaggerated sigh and mock forlorn look in Fenris’ direction then added, “Too bad he remains oblivious.”  
  
    Fenris had stopped glowing by then but a quick wave of color up his face had his brands flashing quickly then fading. Anders nudged Isabela, both of them sharing snickers behind their hands which flushed Fenris even further. He dropped his eyes but Cat saw that they landed on Gabrian’s shoulder.  
  
    She nodded towards Fenris and said, “Well not completely oblivious.” Gabrian was smiling again, with a quick wink he clapped Fenris on the back. The roughness seemed to be a signal of respite because the elf allowed his gaze to drift back up just short of making eye contact. He didn’t smile, didn’t seem the type to smile easily, but his eyes were softer.  
  
    When he spoke again the grumble was back in his voice, he said, “Sebastian is here looking for you, Mage. I do not wish to hurt him but he is acting … erratically. I suggest that we hurry to our destination.”  
  
    Cat agreed, stalling just long enough to change shirts, abandoning the bloody one. Gabrian humphed a bit when he saw the bindings she’d applied earlier in the day. Cat made a mental note to ask Fenris how he’d butchered two full grown men without getting so much as a drop of blood on him as she scrubbed futility at the blood on her face. Anders swatted her hands away eventually wiping it away with a handkerchief that also wound up discarded in the alley.  
      
    The five of them made their way to the docks, Isabela in the lead, with no more interruptions on the way. Isabela had led them to a small boat that looked well worn. Still it seemed sea worthy, if only just, and it was only meant to take them as far as the ship anchored off shore. Fenris seemed to know what to do, climbing in and setting to work immediately while Isabela set about delegation. Cat and Gabrian handed in bundles of supplies that Isabela insisted on bringing then handed in all of their bags. The two of them were untying the boat, preparing to shove off and then jump on after it got moving, when an arrow whizzed between their heads, missing Anders by a hair and grazing Fenris.  
      
    With quick assurances that their respective companions were safe Cat and Gabrian swung toward the trajectory of the arrow to see Sebastian and a group of ten or so thugs. The one next to Sebastian was nocking another arrow. Cat turned to Isabela and shouted for her to get Anders out of there now but he pulled at Cat almost making them both lose their balance as the boat drifted, moored only by one final rope. Fenris had a similar reaction but Gabrian was too fast for his grab, instead clutching the elf by the hand and kissing his knuckles sweetly. Gabrian turned toward the crowd to gauge how long they had before they were upon them while Cat freed herself from Anders’ grasp.  
  
    She finished untying the boat and with a hand at the back of Anders’ head placing a quick protective kiss on his forehead. “Gabrian get your ass on the boat. Isabella get his ass to Kirkwall,” she pointed at Anders, “I’ll meet you there.” Then she and Gabrian shoved the boat hard.  
  
    She expected Gabrian to jump on the boat but he stayed by her side, shoulders squared ready for a fight. “I’ll take the five on the right you get the five on the left?”  
  
    She shrugged, “sounds like a plan.”  
  
\-----  
  
    Anders’ attempt to leap from the boat was thwarted by Fenris’ hand on his shoulder. The elf grumbled assurances that Gabrian would keep Cat safe but he didn’t look anymore pleased with the situation than Anders was.  
      
    Anders snorted and said, “I’m certain your little friend would be a great help from a roof top but they don’t even have their weapons on them.”  
  
    As if to prove both men wrong of their assumptions Cat and Gabrian met the onslaught of hired thugs with impressive skill. Neither one seemed terribly worried about how out numbered they were, nor was Isabela impressed with the superior numbers. She pointed out that the logic of training in roguish skills was to gain an advantage for a smaller person even when fighting several people.  
  
    Anders for his part never took his eyes off of Cat. He’d thought she fought like a Cat the first time he’d seen her with her swords, minimalizing the damage she took through bursts of speed and momentum. He amended that opinion, deciding that she fought like a creature with more than four limbs. A spider maybe or an octopus. She never seemed to gain an advantage for long but nor did she lose it. When the advantage was hers she capitalized on it with efficiency. She was a flurry of elbows and knees led mostly by speed and momentum and the occasional use of the environment around her as a weapon.  
  
Cat had moved from Anders’ line of sight for a moment pursued by a large ham fisted human man. Anders heard a series of thunks and then the tinkling of breaking glass followed by Gabrian shouting, “Was that a wine bottle?” To which Cat shouted back, “Antivan brandy but close enough.”  
  
    She emerged again with a gash along her forehead but the man that had been pursuing her was no where to bee seen. Anders assumed he was worse for wear. An arrow zipped past Cat and Anders almost didn’t have enough time to move, not understanding that he was the intended target until it was almost too late. It grazed his right shoulder ripping open his coat leaving a gash on his skin that he ignored in favor of working his way to the bow of the boat yelling for Cat and Gabrian to jump on as they neared the edge of the pier before the boat would be too far out into the open water.  
  
    Gabrian leaped over Cat landing back to back to take on the remaining few attackers trying to open up their retreat to the boat. Anders was almost jealous of how seamlessly they settled into fighting alongside each other. It was as if they’d been doing a dance they had practiced together for ages. What twisted the knife was the glee they shared with each other in the dance. Until the flask landed at their feet.  
  
    Anders had seen Isabela and Varric use similar flasks containing a paralytic gas that slowed enemies down but this was different. They slumped backwards into each other trying to hold themselves up with the aid of the other but they fell within a minute. Hopefully they were just unconscious.  
  
    Fenris and Anders were both screaming at Isabela to get them back to the pier so they could rescue the two rogues but she refused. Even in the face of the lyrium ghost and Justice she refused. She humphed and said, “You two can just glow at each other for the rest of the trip but I’m not turning around.” Fenris turned to Anders, a suggestion to swim on the tip of his tongue when Isabela said, “Carver is dying.”  
  
    They rounded on her in unison, twin lights blinking out. Anders was the first to find his voice. “Why didn’t you say so before?”  
  
    “When? When your little friend had my face pressed into a wall growling at me? When we were cornered and Fenris and his boyfriend rescued us? While we were working as fast as we could to shove off?”  
  
    Fenris laid a surprisingly restrained hand on Anders’ shoulder and said, “Mage, I do not like this anymore than you do but let her explain.”  
  
    “No, she … Cat saved me. I have to …” He didn’t finish the sentence, instead he let out a grunt as an arrow landed into his right pectoral muscle pushing all the way through to the other side leaving the head protruding from just below his shoulder blade. He vaguely heard Sebastian swearing at someone about aim and then shouting instructions to gather up the fallen rogues before he was pushed to the back of his mind by Justice.  
  
    Anders could feel the pain of the arrow still but Justice only processed it as new information that could be pushed aside in preference to assessing the damage and healing it. Isabela was at his side breaking off the arrow head. Fenris jerked the shaft from Anders’ chest. Anders pushed his own magic into his chest re-inflating his lung and forcing the blood from it in the process. He knit the wound closed starting with the two holes in his lung ending with his chest and back. All that was left was two small wounds front and back that most likely wouldn't scar. The exertion left him too weak to push himself back to the surface of consciousness and even with Justice at the helm he succumbed to the blankness of sleep outside of the fade.  
  
    Cat had enough time before passing out to see the arrow pass through Anders chest. _Well_ , she thought to herself, _that settles it. The Prince of Starkhaven is going to die when I wake up._  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 11/29/15 Edited for errors and some fairly glaring inconsistencies in the timeline and character descriptions.

    Isabela pulled the boat alongside the Sirens Call Two and called up to the crew to throw down a ladder. Two deck hands came down to haul up cargo and gear. Fenris refused to move, he had settled himself down to steer the boat back to shore when it was unloaded.  
  
    Isabela said, “Fenris, we have to get to Kirkwall as soon as possible. Carver is …”  
      
    “Dying. You said that before but considering I have no healing abilities it does not make sense to have me there. I will go to Sebastian and explain why he should release Gabrian and Cat.”  
  
    Isabela didn’t speak to him again, instead she turned to one of the deck hands and said, “Get the Siren.”  
  
    While she waited she checked on Anders, he was flushed but seemed peaceful. She hoped his healing had been enough and that he would forgive her if … when he woke. At her signal the second deck hand gathered Anders up tossing him over a shoulder and hauling him up the ladder.  
  
    A slim man in his early thirties descended the ladder and Fenris got the sense that he knew the man but couldn’t place where he’d met him. Isabela leaned into the man whispering in his ear. He nodded and turned his focus to Fenris. The man’s eyes were a deep pit with no color, like a well with no bottom where not even light could escape. Fenris fought but couldn’t turn his gaze away. It was like being drawn into a whirlpool. When the man spoke his voice was rich and sweet like cream, drawing Fenris in with every word.  
  
    “Fenris, Gabrian is on the ship. He has been asking for you. He is quite worried for you. Will you please go see him?”  
  
    Fenris released the rudder, rising from his seat in a trance that he could not fight. He climbed the ladder quickly, intent on finding Gabrian and never allowing him out of his sight again. The voice came back to him periodically guiding him below decks to lead him to a small room with a bunk and a chamber pot. He was instructed to stay there and wait for Gabrian who would be there shortly, then the door was closed. Fenris regained lucidity once the voice was gone and he realized that the door had been barred from the outside. He roared Isabela’s name ramming his shoulder into the door.  
  
\-----  
  
    Cat awoke in degrees, first feeling her brain pounding against her skull in a failed escape attempt. The next thing she felt was the world rocking side to side rhythmically. She tried to stretch but found that her hands were bound above her head just taut enough that she couldn’t move them without applying her body weight to them. Her legs and torso were bound to something rigid behind her.  
  
    Eventually she forced her eyes open, waiting several moments for them to focus on her surroundings. She found that she was in small room full of crates and netting. The smell was what made her understand where she was, body odor, animals, food, salt water all mingled in too close quarters. It was a ship but obviously not the one she had intended to be on. She craned her neck side to side to take in as much as she could. There was a door to her right and a porthole to the left that was large enough for her to climb out of if she could free herself. She saw through the porthole that it was dark out but light was filtering in over the horizon. It had been at least twelve hours since she had fallen to the paralytic grenade.  
  
    Movement from outside the door was warning enough to have her slipping into a practiced imitation of sleep. She fought against rising panic forcing her breaths to come evenly and slowly. Voices floated around her in the small room with no visual clues to place the bodies they belonged to. After a few minutes of scuffing noises and ropes hissing one of the voices said, “She should be awake by now, maybe something went wrong.”  
  
    Another voice, feminine this time said, “Nah, she’s just small and she breathed in a lot of the gas. She’s just going to take some time coming to.”  
  
    The voices drifted toward the direction of the door and then further away after the door was closed and from the sound of it bolted. Cat waited for a count of  three hundred before she opened her eyes. She kept her breath slow and steady but examined the new addition to the room. Gabrian was tied to a post directly across from her in the same manner she was with his head down and eyes closed. Cat examined as much of his body as she could looking for injuries. She worked her eyes around his body, starting with his bared arms, arms covered in tattoos she noted. Rivaini then, she’d ask him about smugglers later when she could. He had no obvious injuries but his breath seemed labored, Cat guessed from exertion rather than injury. She worked her eyes back up to his face and found him staring at her with a tired smile. He had a fresh cut above one eyebrow and a bruise blooming around that eye.  
  
    His voice was mostly even when he asked, “Do you eye fuck everyone you meet or was that just special treatment for little ole me?”  
  
    Cat couldn’t help it, she laughed at that then asked, “Did they just rough you up because of your smart mouth or did they have a good reason?”  
  
    “How do you know me so well already?” That broad charming smile was back and Cat wondered if he took anything seriously.  
  
    “So I’m going to assume that if I’m a ‘good girl’ and tell them what they want to know I’ll be spared the black eye?”  
  
    “Maybe but their pretty prince is not a fan of yours. Something about you breaking his arm.”  
  
    “Well not personally, but he did get in the way of one of my concussion grenades. When I get my hands on him he’ll wish he had given up on Anders then.”  
  
    She didn’t register the rage that had crept into her voice until Gabrian’s dropped into a soothing cadence. “Hey,” he said trying to calm her with his voice, “he isn’t dead. They got the arrow out and he started glowing blue but I’m pretty sure that he was alive when I passed out.”  
  
    Cat sniffed working to control the tears that were trying to fall before she became a mess. The last thing she needed right then was to be snotty while her hands were bound. She rubbed her face against her arms as best as she could to wipe away as much as she was able to. Once she was calmer she asked about Fenris.  
  
    “Oh he was glowing too but I think it was because Whatsername wouldn’t turn the boat around to come back to get us. I’m pretty sure he’s okay. He didn’t seem injured.”  
  
    “How long have we been on this boat?”  
  
    He shrugged as best as he could bound as he was, “At least a full day and a half.”  
  
    “Have we left the harbor?”  
  
    “I don’t think so. We’re anchored now for sure.”  
  
    “So why did you stay? You could have been on the boat with them while I distracted Dick Cheese and his thugs.”  
  
    “I’ve been asking myself that since I woke up tied to this post. I have a tendency to stick up for underdogs I guess.”  
  
    “I’m hardly an underdog.”  
  
    “Well I didn’t know that then. Besides you’d get lonely without my charming self to keep you company.”  
  
    Cat’s laugh died as the door opened and Sebastian walked in. He had a serene facade that Cat saw through with ease. He said, “Now that you’re both awake I would like to know where Anders is going. I would hate to force the information from you but I won’t hesitate to do so.”  
  
    “They’re on their way to Kirkwall. If you want to try to torture a reason why out of me then go ahead. I’ll be sure to make up something interesting but I don’t know the actual reason so it would be a lie.”  
  
    Sebastian raised an eyebrow, “No loyalty then?”  
  
    “On the contrary, I have plenty of loyalty but I’m positive that they have at least a days lead on you and that your ship will be turned away at the harbor by Kirkwall guard. You did try to invade after all. There is no way they’re going to let you in now. You can try though. It’ll be fun to watch them refuse you.”  
  
    Sebastian‘s face snapped from placid to seething in a blink. “How does that abomination inspire such love? He is a menace. He killed the Grand Cleric.”  
  
    “That he did, and it was horrible, truly, but he also spent years healing the poor for free because the Chantry did nothing for them. He lived in Kirkwall for years protesting peacefully. People he knew and loved were murdered or worse for an accident of birth or just because a Templar wanted a new pet.” She forced her shoulders to square with a bit of protest from her bindings but plowed on gaining steam as she spoke. “Meredith was bat shit insane by then and I know from the horses mouth that the former Knight Captain agrees with that assessment. Did you know she had called for the Right of Annulment? She was going to use it that night and kill all of the mages in the tower anyway.”  
  
    Sebastian’s face paled a bit and Cat pressed the advantage. “Let’s not forget that the Grand Cleric should have mediated between Meredith and Orsino but she decided to do nothing because the Makers will would work it all out in the end. If that’s true then what Anders did was the Makers will.”  
  
    Then just to twist the knife a bit she added, “Oh he’s also charming and has the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen.” Gabrian cut in to agree about Anders’ hair nodding vigorously. “Surely a chantry brother could forgive his trespasses in the light of all of that plus the good he did then and has continued to do since. But no, you aren’t a chantry brother anymore are you? You’re just an angry man who has spent his adult life going from one cause to another seeking revenge.”  
  
    Sebastian pushed up close to Cat, breath ghosting across her face as he lowered his voice an octave. “He murdered a building full of people. He is possessed by a demon. He is an apostate. Any one of those things is unforgivable.”  
  
    “To you maybe, but not to everyone and certainly not to me. Don’t assume that I don’t know you. I’ve studied you. Hawke insisted that you’re not a bad person but I think he just wants to see the good in everyone. I see the real you. I know that the real demon of vengeance is you.”  
  
    Sebastian backhanded her so hard that she saw spots and blood filled her mouth. She spat it in his face, an act that had him hitting her again, twice. He pulled up short of a third strike when Gabrian said, “Such a strong man you are. Tied us both up to take out your anger.”  
  
    Sebastian jerked himself up to full height backing against the far wall to put as much distance as he could between them. His voice quavered when he said, “I seek justice not vengeance.”  
  
    “Keep telling yourself that and you might believe it one day.” Cat expected another backhand but Sebastian just opened up the door and called for two people, a man and a woman, to come in. He told the new comers to get Cat and Gabrian cleaned up and to see to their needs then left.  
  
    They were unbound and the woman took Cat to another room to use the privy then the man took Gabrian. After they were cleaned up and fed two chairs were brought in and pushed against the posts they had been tied to. Finally the woman spoke and Cat recognized the voice as the woman who had spoken earlier when Gabrian was brought back into the room. “Sit down both of you.”  
  
    Cat and Gabrian exchanged looks but complied. They were then bound by the ankles, knees, waist and chest to the chairs. Their hands were pulled tight above their heads the same way they were earlier and tied off around the posts. The two attendants left them bolting the door on the outside as they left.  
  
    After a long silence Gabrian said, “Tell me about him.”  
  
    “He’s the Prince of Starkhaven. He has been hunting Anders since the chantry explosion in Kirkwall…”  
  
    “No tell me about Anders.”  
  
    “Oh,” she searched the room looking for something that might help her gather her thoughts. “What do you want to know?”  
  
    “Fenris talks about him sometimes. He claims to hate him. Says he’s an abomination. I don’t believe he hates him though, something about the way he describes Anders is almost respect. Like he’s pissed off at himself for _not_ hating him.”  
  
    She took a shaking breath before she told him about Anders. About how she felt she’d known him already before meeting him. How Hawke gave two different descriptions depending on who he was talking to. Someone who might hunt Anders got the standard, 'I don’t know where he is and I don’t want to know,' response. Cat got the full description from a man who missed his friend. Once she met Anders herself she was already biased to like him but his easy charm had made him even more likeable. Then they’d begun flirting and it only took three days to make her willing to protect Anders by putting herself between him and the danger. She didn’t even realize she had begun to do so until Gabrian pointed it out.  
  
    “You’re no better,” She said, “I don’t think I’m the underdog you were protecting, though Fenris is less of an underdog than me. What the story with you two?”  
  
    “We met in the Brecilian Forest. Some Tevinter slavers were rounding up elves displaced by the mage templar fighting. I have some experience with liberating slaves. I had been following one group of slavers hoping find the larger cell and take them all out. Fenris had the same idea and once we realized we had the same goal we sort of fell into working together. Well I follow him and he tolerates my presence.”  
  
    “Oh trust me, that man is smitten with you.”  
  
    “You think? He doesn’t talk about himself much but I get the sense that he’s had a rough past. Like admitting he has a friend is dangerous for him.”  
  
    “I only know what I read about him in Varric’s book.”  
  
    “What book?”  
      
    “The Tale of the Champion.”  
  
    “He’s a Champion?”  
  
    “No Garrett Hawke is the Champion of Kirkwall. Fenris and Anders both helped him out during the years prior to the Gallows rebellion. Varric too and he wrote a book about it. Varric admits to taking creative license occasionally but I don’t think he would make up half the shit Fenris has been through. If anything he probably left some out to spare Fenris the attention.”  
  
    “Tell me everything. It’s not like we have anything else to do anyway.”  
  
    Cat recounted the tale of the Champion explaining Fenris’ past in the least amount of detail she could. Then she went on to describe the Inquisition and it’s members. She couldn’t keep the affection from her voice when she talked about the Chargers. Especially Dalish the half crazy elf mage that refused to admit to being a mage. After hours of talking they both slipped into uncomfortable sleep drifting in and out until exhaustion took them both completely under.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, if anyone is keeping up with this, I wasn't feeling well last week. Also if Shark Week makes you queasy maybe skim this chapter. There's a somewhat graphic depiction of a polaris breach and the death of some sea creatures of varying cuddlebility.
> 
> As of 11/29/15 Edited for errors and some fairly glaring inconsistencies in the timeline and character descriptions.

    Anders had been unconscious for a day and a half. When he woke his bladder was full to nearly bursting. He found a chamber pot, relieving himself took quite a long while. Once his needs were taken care of he examined the room he was in. He tested the door expecting to be locked in, when it clicked open he let out a shutter of surprised laughter and pushed himself out into a narrow hallway. He had to duck a bit and turn sideways to get through the hall. In short time he found a set of stairs that led up. He found that he was on a ship in open water with no land in sight.  
  
    With a sweep of his eye around the deck Anders found Isabela. He remembered then that Cat and Gabrian had been taken. He remembered Carver next and was torn between two people he barely knew, even if he wanted to get to know one much better, and the brother of the man he trusted over any other person alive. He barreled his way across the deck to stand in front of Isabela but when he got there he didn’t feel like fighting. He just felt tired and conflicted. He settled on asking after Fenris knowing he would have enough anger to spare.  
  
    Isabela looked as close to regretful as Anders had ever seen her when she said, “He’s locked up in the hold.”  
  
    Knowing Fenris’ past was similar enough to his own Anders realized that Fenris had to be a wreck. Justice flared blue and his voice was not entirely his natural tone when he said, “Isabela, take me to him.”  
  
    “Come on.” She sighed and moved her feet a beat slower than usual.  
  
    They went back under the deck silent as they made their way to Fenris’ room. Isabela left him not wanting to face the wrath of the elf she had kidnapped. Not yet at least. She knew she’d feel it eventually but hoped that he would wait until they made it to Kirkwall because she wasn’t going to turn around. No matter what. Anders called out to Fenris, a heavy thump against the door was his answer. Anders took a deep breath and pushed the bolt open like ripping off a bandage. When the door was opened Fenris shot through brands flaring so hard Anders could feel the lyrium singing from several feet away.  
  
    Fenris snarled, “Where is Isabela?”  
  
    Anders just pointed up, afraid to draw too much attention. Fenris looked so feral that he could have been frothing at the mouth without surprising anyone. He stormed up the deck pushing deck hands aside and leaving a wake of surprised, shocked and terrified faces. When he reached Isabela she puffed her chest out squaring up to dodge a blow if Fenris tried to hit her.  
  
    “Turn around. Now.”  
  
    “Fenris I can’t…”  
  
    “NOW!”  
  
    Anders stepped forward placing himself between the two but allowing them to stare each other down. Fenris looked to Anders and said, “Ask her how she restrained me.”  
  
    Anders turned to her, curiosity peeked now that Fenris had mentioned that. There was no way Isabela did it herself and he hadn’t seen anyone on the ship so far who looked even remotely strong enough. When she didn’t speak Anders raised an eyebrow and said, “Well?”  
  
    She looked down scuffing her toe on the wooden deck but still didn’t answer so Anders looked back at Fenris. He jabbed a finger in her direction hissing out the words as if they hurt to speak them. “She turned a blood mage on me.”  
  
    That motivated her into speaking, she aimed for indignant but regret tinged her words enough that they lacked conviction. “He’s not a blood mage. He’s a Siren.’  
  
    “I do not care what you wish to call it. The only way to control another’s mind is through blood magic.”  
  
    “That isn’t true.” The voice was the same as before but it wasn’t drawing Fenris in this time. The man from before stepped closer stopping in front of Anders to create a diamond formation between the four of them. “I have a rare ability but it is natural, no blood magic involved.”  
  
    Anders had been evaluating the man but it didn’t take long for the resemblance to surface. This was the long lost brother Cat had spoken of. He had to be, there was no other way to explain the resemblance. Anders raised a hand almost touching the man in front of him before catching himself.  
      
    He had a brief thought that the Siren felt threatened because he stepped back and began speaking with the rich creamy voice drawing Anders under. “Step back and do not touch me please.”  
  
    Anders complied but he managed to say, “Geminus,” before he backed up.  
  
    Fenris and Isabela both shot looks first at Anders then to the Siren. Isabela asked, “What does that mean?”  
      
    Fenris supplied the definition, “Twins.”  
  
    The Siren stepped back again coming up short on a barrel unable to back up any further. “How … how could you know that?”  
  
    When Anders spoke it was dreamy and distant, “She brought me to Highever. She protected me.”  
  
    Fenris and Isabela asked, “Who,” at the same time.  
  
    “Cat, she told me she had a twin. They took him away. She thinks he’s still with the Qunari.”  
  
    The Siren released his hold on Anders with a bitter laugh. “If I were still under the Qun I’d have had my tongue cut out, my mouth and eyes sewn shut and I would be collared like a beast. Swords get better treatment under the Qun than mages.”  
  
    Anders rubbed his own face then shook his head. “You look so much alike.”  
  
    Fenris cut in saying, “Your companion looked nothing like this man.”  
  
    “She wasn’t Cat at the time, I don’t know what her name was then. When she’s just herself with no name though, she looks like him. Her jaw is a bit softer, brow a bit shorter but it’s the same face. Same eyes, no color.”  
  
    “Mage, you are rambling.”  
  
    Anders cut back in, “No it’s him, it has to be. What did she say she called you? She was Connatus, you were … Gemalios … No! Gemellus. That’s what it was.”  
  
    Isabela had been silent up to then but said, “That is your name isn’t it?”  
  
    The Siren responded, “The closest thing to a name I’ve ever had. Where is she?”  
  
    Isabela, now under the scrutiny of the three men, one who could force her to do anything, tried to fall back to deflection but failed. Gemellus slipped into his rich tone repeating the question so she had to answer. “Sebastian took them. I assume he’s trailing us. Anders is his target after all. I swear when we get them to Kirkwall I’ll go back out and find Sebastian and bring her back.” Fenris’ flash of his brands had her adding, “Gabrian too.”  
  
    “How long until we get there?”  
  
    She squirmed under the attention of the Siren but answered, “Three days if we’re lucky.”  
  
    She clutched her head in pain as Gemellus snarled, “You’re lying.”  
  
    “Fine, it should take three days but we were going the long way to avoid Sebastian’s ship. It’ll take a week. If nothing happens.”  
  
    Had Varric been there he would have chided her for adding that last bit. He’d insist that she’d just jinxed the voyage for sure. He would have been right too because from the crows nest a voice shouted, “Ship spotted ahead.”  
  
    Fenris lit his brands and demanded, “Is it Sebastian?”  
  
    Isabela pulled out a spyglass pointing it in the direction the man in the crows nest had indicated. “Shit. Shit! Balls.” She snapped the glass shut and began shouting orders. She turned back to the men and said, “We’ll finish this later. Right now we have to get away from that ship.”  
  
    Fenris grabbed her arm, careful not to hurt her and asked, “Who is it?”  
  
    “Oh just a slaver. I helped to liberate his last shipment. We aren’t on the best terms now. Now below decks all of you. This is going to get hairy and I can’t afford for either of you to be hurt.”  
  
    They complied, though neither of them seemed comfortable with the idea of being below decks again. Anders was turning green by the time he sat down, the combination of being in an enclosed space and the movement of the water set off a bout of nausea that he was barely able to contain. Fenris and Gemellus weren’t sick but neither one like the feeling of being enclosed.  
  
    Above them Isabela was shouting again. Anders heard a man shout back, “We can’t do that, it’s suicide.”  
  
    He asked Gemellus what the man could mean. “I don’t know. Unless. No. She can’t mean to go there.”  
  
    He was on his feet and running back up to the deck halfway through the last sentence crashing into Isabela when he found her. “Tell me you aren’t doing what I think you’re doing.”  
  
    “It’s this or be run down. His boat is bigger, he’ll sink us if he catches us but he won’t fit between them.’  
  
    “We’ll barely fit and we’ll more than likely end up dead anyway.”          
  
    “Better a maybe with them than a definite death with him.”  
  
    Fenris and Anders had both caught up by then and both looked confused. Anders asked, “Care to fill us in?”  
  
    Isabela answered, “We’ve been hugging the Storm Coast headed west just far enough out to not be spotted from shore. There is a series of cliffs that form straits that most ships avoid for fear of crashing on the rocks.” She held up a hand to stave off their protests. “Most ships are larger than this one. She’ll fit.’  
  
    Gemellus huffed a disgusted noise, “Don’t leave the best part out.”  
  
    She sighed, “There are legends about a sea monster but that’s ludicrous.”  
  
    “You’ve seen it yourself.”  
  
    “I was drunk and it was far away. It could have been anything.”  
  
    “You’re full of shit Isabela. You never pass up the opportunity to tell the story and you never vary in detail.”  
  
    “It’s still our best hope. We can’t out run him but we can out crazy him.”  
  
    Anders cut in to ask, “What is this sea monster supposed to be?”  
  
    Isabela said, “Not real, that’s what it is.”  
  
    Gemellus countered, “It is supposed to be a giant shining serpent. No one has gotten close enough to describe it in better detail. Well, no one has lived to tell if they have.”  
  
    Isabela pouted and said, “Gemellus you’ve never been one for fish tales before why now?”  
  
    “Have you forgotten that you can’t lie to me? I would know if you were just spinning a tall tale. You believe that it’s real.”  
  
    “Fine, maybe I do, but it’s still our best chance.”  
  
    She stomped off speaking with groups of sailors planning the best tactics for the trip through the straits. Fenris shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and Anders rolled his shoulders. Neither was used to long sea voyages and the added stress of the current predicament was weighing on them. Gemellus put a hand on each of their backs and spoke in soothing tones. Not enough to control but enough to calm them. “She’s right, we can’t stand up to his ship but we might fit through the straits.”  
  
    Anders smiled and said, “Maybe the sea monster will take pity on us.”  
  
    “Maybe,” Gemellus chuckled.

 

\-----

  
  
    Eight hours later the ship was creeping it’s way along the straits at a pace that would make a snail impatient. Occasionally one of the sailors would call out a warning that they were getting too close to the cliffs on one side or the other.  Isabela had been right though, the slaver had given up on them. He probably assumed that the rocks would do his work for him.  
  
    Anders, Fenris and Gemellus were stationed at the front of the boat on the look out for sea monsters. Anders and Fenris felt foolish but neither of them had enough experience aboard a ship to be of any help during such delicate maneuvers. Anders was the first to spot the seals lounging on the outcroppings of rock along the cliffs sides. Occasionally one would leap down into the water and scarper away out of sight. Anders thought they must have been a good sign. Surely prey animals wouldn’t make a home in an area that was home to a large predatory creature. Those hopes were dashed at the sign of the first shark.  
  
    At first it was just a glimpse of grey off to the side then the first fin emerged from the water with another several feet behind it. Anders took a moment to marvel at the beauty of it, sleek and defined as it sliced through the water head swaying side to side as it hunted the fat rich seals. He judged it’s size relative to the boat and estimated that it was at least fourteen feet long. The shark shifted it’s motion slightly, slipping under the water as silently as it emerged. He watched until he could no longer see it.  
  
    “These fish don’t seem much like a shining serpent,” Fenris grumbled. “Fish tales are always over blown.”  
  
    Anders was loathed to admit that he agreed with the elf but Fenris had a point. At the waters surface the sharks skin did reflect light but one could hardly compare it to a serpent. Sailors are a superstitious bunch and he was ready to just chalk the legend up to one sailor after the other embellishing the story until very large sharks became shining serpents. A niggling voice at the back of his mind reminded him that Isabela believed that the monster was real. Isabela believed in very few things without proof.  
  
    He became aware of a series of popping sounds that had been pushed to the back of his mind by other thoughts. They were getting louder and faster by the moment. At first he thought that the boat was scraping rocks somewhere but the sailors near him dismissed that thought. They said it was no sound they’d ever heard before. He turned back to watch the water at the front of the boat again hoping to find the source of the sound in the water. The front of the boat was clear of the straits and in a few moments the entire boat would be free.  
  
    Now that they were coming to deeper water he could see more life milling around. Smaller fish darted around followed by the seals that barreled through the water twirling and leaping as if dancing. One large seal had just surfaced off to the right. It was searching around eyes wide in panic. In a flash Anders understood where the seals stress had originated. From directly beneath the seal a shark, larger than one he’d spotted earlier by several feel, launched out of the water sending the seal flying into the air.  
  
    The sharks mouth was gaping open with it’s gums pulled back from it’s teeth. The force of the attack sent the shark leaping into the air completely out of the water. At the apex of the breach the sharks eyes rolled over from black to white as it’s jaws closed down on the seal. A font of blood and water spewed from the sharks mouth as it tossed it’s head side to side shredding the seals tail. They crashed back to the water and the shark began to circle the seal as it thrashed.  
  
    From behind him somewhere Anders heard a grizzled aged voice shout, “I’ve been sailing for thirty some years and I ain’t never seen such a sight. Damn shark thinks it’s a whale.”  
  
    In the commotion the popping sound had resumed, louder and faster. It came from everywhere around them and Anders couldn’t pinpoint the source. The shark circled the seal once more but as it was preparing for another strike on the dying seal a loud boom followed by a crackling sounded out around them. The shark arched sideways violently nearly touching nose to tail as blue sparks flowed across it’s body. It twitched for several moments under the electricity then the spasm released as the sparks died away.  
  
    The ruddy color of the sea floor shifted in ropes of movement coiling toward the surface. At once it became obvious that it was an animal. A long serpentine animal with wide set black cloudy eyes and a frill on either side of it‘s head. A flat head easily as wide as the shark from nose to tail. Once it was at the surface it swallowed the shark and seal down with a gulp of water.  
  
    Every person on the ship stopped what they were doing to stare at the creature. Murmurs of fear worked through the ship until everyone was a breath away from panic. The creature had submerged, undulating as it went exposing a long rope like body with a fin on its back that worked in waves all the way to it’s tail. As it moved mottled patches of ruddy brown and russet gave the hint of light filtering through water to camouflage it on the sea floor. It glided under until it was no longer visible but no one wanted to stick around to find out if it would come back.  
  
    Everyone broke from the shock in the same moment and went about hoisting sails and getting the hell out of there as fast as they could. From the back of the boat the popping noise started back up. A shout alerted the crew that the beast was surfacing again. Every member of the crew redoubled their effort to sail away quickly.  
  
    As the popping became louder a jet of water shot out arcing over the back of the boat connecting with the sailor in the crows nest as if it were aimed by an expert marksman. When the water connected with the man an arc of electricity followed it up like lightning complete with the boom of thunder just after a blinding flash. The man fell from the crows nest hitting the rail on his way down. The creature gulped in the water around him and pulled him in with one swallow. It submerged again for several long moments emitting the popping sound in a slow lazy rhythm as it went.  
  
    As the ship sped out to open water again it seemed that they would get away with only one life lost but then the creature emerged ahead of them undulating it’s way out to the sea to a greater depth of water. Once there it swam in lazy circles waiting for them. There was no way past it without crashing on the outside of the cliff so Isabela instructed the crew to build as much speed as they could. If they couldn’t get around it they’d try to go through it.  
  
    Once the ship got close the creature widened its arc to begin circling the ship. The popping picked back up again but it was accompanied by the crackle of electricity. Isabela found Anders and Gemellus. She was almost convincing when she tried to exude calm but the shake in her voice gave her up.  
  
    “Can either of you do anything about this?”  
  
    They both replied at the same time, “I can try.”  
  
    They went to the side of the boat followed by Fenris, Isabela and some of the crew. The two mages conferred for a moment before deciding that they would cast a glyph of paralysis on it and then they would cast winters grasps on it’s head.  
  
    While they were preparing their spells the creature began sparking electricity again as it tightened the circle of its body around the boat. It was so close by then that it was nearly touching it head to its tail. The mages let their glyphs out one landing on it’s head the other landing on its back about half way down it’s body. The result was not what had been expected, the spell seemed to anger the animal more than harm it. It leapt up out of the water toward them, when it opened its mouth curved needle like teeth were revealed.  
  
    It stretched far enough upward to peer over the rail at them then it struck forward snapping it’s jaws on empty air as everyone dove out of its way. Sparks arced off of it along it’s sides and it opened it’s mouth again lunging forward toward a dwarf that had fallen to his rear when the animal first leapt up towards them. He was just out of it’s reach and everyone breathed a sigh as he began scrambling backwards but the creature shot its tongue out to him wrapping it around his ankle. Isabela reached for the dwarf but Fenris pulled her back right before the sparks began to radiate through the dwarfs body. The creature pulled the dwarf into it’s mouth and then slithered back off of the ship and into the water to resume it’s loop around the ship.  
  
    “Well that was a success,” Fenris deadpanned.  
  
    “Actually,” Gemellus said, “I think if we had more power to put into it that would have worked. It is quite large after all.”  
  
    Fenris glanced back and forth between the two mages then lit his brands. Gemellus sucked in a breath as he felt the lyrium song wash over him. Fenris said, “I can help with that. Do your ice spells and I will increase your power.”  
  
    Anders had know that Fenris was able to augment the abilities of a mage but he had never seen it in practice. Were they not in such a dire situation he would have protested because it seemed so against character for Fenris to even suggest it. He didn’t protest though, They needed all the power they could muster.  
  
    The mages set about preparing their spells while Fenris’ brands pulsed behind them. They could feel the power of the lyrium swelling inside of them as the spell grew until there was no option but to release it. Anders hit the creature just below it’s head while Gemellus hit it between the eyes a few seconds later.  
  
    The creature writhed rocking the ship and slapping its body along the sides nearly rocking it over but after several moments it began to still until its lower body went limp. The tail sank several feet under the water silently and blood began oozing from the mouth. With the sea calming around them the crew whooped and cheered, those closest to the mages and Fenris clapped them on the backs in praise.  
  
    From there Isabela set a course directly for Kirkwall not wanting to tempt fate anymore then she had to. She assured the three men that they would make it in three days time, four at the most. When Gemellus didn’t argue the other two accepted that she was telling the truth. As they sailed further away from the straits the sharks descended upon the creature in a frenzy. The water frothed red in an ever increasing circle around the creature. Anders spared a moment’s regret, it had obviously been an intelligent and maybe even unique animal, it was a shame that it had to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the sea serpent was a mix of a lot of different animals. There's some oarfish in there along with electric and moray eels and literal sea snakes. Also I love sharks and it hurt my poor heart to write that so hopefully it conveyed just how big and monstrous the sea serpent was.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 11/29/15 Edited for errors and some fairly glaring inconsistencies in the timeline and character descriptions.

    Cat and Gabrian spent four more days in their cell, Sebastian didn’t make another appearance in that time. The guards came in four times a day to feed them and allow them to use the privy if needed. In that time Cat and Gabrian did two things, first they got to know each other and found that they were as different as they could be. Gabrian was outgoing and flirtatious, Cat on her own was reserved and could be quite shy. Despite that they liked each other. The second and more important thing that they did was watch. They watched their guards closely, studied their movements and habits, calculated their weaknesses.  
  
    On the morning of the fourth day shouts that the Kirkwall harbor was in sight began to filter down from above them. They had a plan for this moment, when the guards came in to take them for their trip to the privy Cat insisted that Gabrian should go first. She needed to go desperately but the plan was to throw the routine off as much as possible and Gabrian’s guard was the more lenient one. Cat’s guard would have tied her back to the chair once they returned to the room but Gabrian was allowed to sit untied while she was gone.  
  
    Cat went second and when her guard brought her back to the room she and Gabrian set their plan into motion. Gabrian had been sitting in his chair, flirting with his guard no doubt, but when the man looked up to see Cat and her guard enter the room Gabrian sprang forward gripping him by the neck closing off the blood flow to his brain. Cat’s guard had no time to react before Cat had set about the same action.  
  
    They took time to be gentle as they tied the guards to the chairs in the same fashion they had been tied for so long. When they heard the sounds of the crew preparing to leave the ship they climbed out of the porthole. They hugged the side of the ship for as long as they could, clinging to the ledge below the portholes, but eventually they had to climb up onto the deck and risk being spotted. They were both skilled in stealth but the deck was covered in people milling about like ants pouring out of a disturbed nest. True to Cat’s prediction that he would be denied at the harbor Sebastian and a few of his men were standing rigidly at the top of the gangplank shouting down to a group of twenty or so of Kirkwall’s guards.  
      
    Sebastian’s voice was strained as he was trying to control his anger but the need to raise his voice to be heard allowed his frustration to bleed through. “If I’m to be denied passage into the city then at least allow me to speak to someone.” The lead guard asked who and Sebastian replied, “Hawke, the Champion.”  
  
    The lead guard turned to one of the others and whispered in her ear, when he finished she ran off. He then turned back to Sebastian and shouted. “He’s been sent for but if he decides that he doesn’t wish to speak to you, you will need to leave. By force if necessary.”  
  
    Sebastian didn’t acknowledge the last comment. Instead he crossed his arms and cocked a hip in an effort to appear more relaxed as he waited. Cat leaned into Gabrian to quietly suggest waiting for Hawke to show before trying to escape. Hawke knew her and would assist their escape if need be. It was a good plan but unfortunately they were unable to stick to it because Sebastian sent a young boy below decks to find out where the guards where and tell them to bring the captives above deck.  
  
    “Shit,” Cat hissed under her breath.  
  
    “Shit,” Gabrian agreed with a nod.  
  
    “Okay, we have two options, run for the side of the boat closest to the dock and jump, maybe we’ll land on the dock but that will draw attention, or we can jump ship and swim around to climb up on the dock.”  
  
    “Option one. I can’t swim.”  
  
    She arched a brow but decided not to ask the man with obvious shipwreck tattoos how he’d never managed to learn to swim. “On three,” she asked instead.  
  
    He nodded and said, “one,” with a grin.  
  
    Cat supplied the two and rather than voice the three they both sprinted for the side of the boat. They pumped their legs hard, feet pounding on the deck loud enough to draw attention from every direction. Gabrian had the advantage of longer legs and gained the deck a few moments before Cat. He hesitated for a moment but Cat yelled at him to keep moving or get out of her way. He vaulted himself off of the boat with two hands on the railing, landing on the dock hard enough send a shock up to his knees. In short order Cat reached the edge of the deck and jumped with no hesitation.  
  
    With the running start she had she sailed several feet out away from the ship with her arms spread out to her sides for balance. For a moment she felt like she was flying but at the apex of her flight she felt a blistering pain at her right side as an arrow ripped through her shirt and bindings, tearing open a wicked gash across her ribs. The sudden pain caused her to falter and rather than rolling to decrease the impact of her jump she landed on her knees and collapsed forward. Gabrian was at her side before the archer on the ship could nock another arrow.  
  
    One of the guards helped Gabrian lift Cat slowly, carefully then tucked her away behind some large cargo crates. The rest of the guard set about forcing Sebastian’s crew to stand down. Hawke, accompanied by Varric and a tall red head that Cat though must have been Aveline made it to the ship in time to hear Sebastian shouting about escaped prisoners being sheltered in Kirkwall.  
  
    They shouldered their way to the dock and asked the lead guard about the commotion. Instead of allowing the guard to answer Sebastian shouted, “Hawke where is he?”  
  
    “Where is who?”  
  
    “Don’t play dumb with me Hawke. Where is Anders? I know you sent for him. I will have justice for what he’s done.”  
  
    Hawke scrubbed a hand across his face then shouted, “He isn’t here and you need to leave. The provisional Viscount and the guard are not going to tolerate you rattling your sword anymore. Since we were once friends I’ve been allowed to give you the ultimatum. Leave now, quietly, or be arrested and jailed as a hostile force.” By then another twenty guards had filled out the group at the dock and Hawke said, “you remember how well it went last time you tried to find Anders through harassing Kirkwall don’t you?”  
  
    Hawke turned his back and walked away followed by Varric but Aveline stayed at the front of the group of guards. Hawke asked after the prisoners that Sebastian was going on about and was lead away. They found Cat sat propped against Gabrian’s side with a rag ripped from her bindings held against the wound on her ribs. “Maker, when I sent you after Anders I expected you had less than half a chance of finding him but you didn’t need to bring a replacement.”  
  
    “Hawke,” she grunted as she shifted her weight to see him better, “I’ll laugh at what you obviously feel was a hilarious joke when you tell me you lied to that nug testicle and Anders is here safe and sound doing whatever it was you needed him to do.” She winced as she tried to push herself all the way up and with Gabrian’s help she was successful after the third try.  
  
    “Not here yet no, but The Sirens Call Two has been spotted on her way in. That’s why we were here and so easily found. Why aren’t you on the ship with Anders?”  
  
    “That fuckwad,” she jabbed a hand toward the ship, “caught up with us in Highever. Gabrian and I stayed behind to hold them off while the pirate took Anders and Fenris to the right ship. Prince Shit Head then took us captive by knocking us out with a gas grenade.”  
  
    Gabrian cut in to say, “I’m Gabrian by the way. Nice to meet you. Fenris has never mentioned you, given how handsome you are I’ll assume it was so he could keep you to himself.”  
  
    Cat tossed a sidelong glare at him and said, “Keep your eyes in your pants, you can give him the once over later. For now could I maybe get an elfroot potion or a bottle of whiskey or a something to dull the pain of my shattered knee caps?”  
  
    Varric popped the cork out of a potion bottle and placed a hand at the back of her head to help her drink it. When he tried to pull the rag from her wound she made a noise that started out a growl but ended in a breathless, hissing whine. “Maker Jinx, you’ve got to let me look.”  
  
    She allowed the dwarf to pull the cloth away but as he probed the edges of the wound she sucked in a huge breath only to let it out slowly in short pants. Once satisfied that her insides would stay on the inside he said, “It’s not too deep. The field surgeon in your crew can sew it back up.”  
  
    She brightened and asked, “The Chargers are here?”  
  
    “Yep along with the Inquisitor, Sparkler, Buttercup and the Kid. They missed my beautiful face so much that they had to come visit.”  
  
    “Or,” Hawke cut in, “they came to investigate the large number of missing Templars. But I’m sure they missed you too. Who wouldn’t?”  
  
    A young dark haired boy that had been fidgeting a few feet away finally mustered the courage to dash up to Hawke to hand off a note. Once the paper was passed off and a sovereign was tucked into his palm the kid ran away again like a dog with it’s tail tucked. Hawke examined the note and told the others to head toward the eastern docks then he jogged over to speak with Aveline. After a quick word he caught up with them and received the same snarl the other two men had when he tried to pick Cat up to carry her. She was slow going but she’d be dead before she’d allow herself to be carried away from an enemy. Not that she didn’t feel like she was near death. Her limbs all felt as though they’d gained twenty pounds a piece and her joints were so stiff that she was shuffling rather that walking.  
  
    When they reached their destination she found a small crate and plopped down with a groan. Her legs were on fire by then and nausea was tearing at her stomach. Gabrian nudged her over with his hip on her uninjured side and she leaned against him as she did before.  
  
    “Vashedan, I need a four day nap.”  
  
    “Me too,” he reached his hand up to her face to gently guide her head down to rest on his shoulder.  
  
    Hawke and Varric had gone to the door of a warehouse and after a brief conversation with a tall boy in his late teens they came back to the rouges to fill them in. Varric gave Cat another Elfroot potion while Hawke explained that Isabela, Fenris and Anders were on their way in a small boat while the crew sailed The Sirens Call Two out to a safe distance to set anchor. The warehouse had it’s own internal dock for smaller boats so they’d be coming in through it to avoid unneeded attention.  
  
    While they waited Cat dozed against Gabrian’s shoulder. She assumed that she was coming down from an adrenaline rush and dismissed the fatigue she was feeling but the nagging itch on her side, where the wound was still not fully closed after two potions, was beginning to drive her mad. Growing up under the Qun had given her enough discipline to not scratch but she was uncomfortable and had she not been exhausted she would have been pacing and fidgeting.  
  
    After a time Gabrian rubbed her shoulder, “Hey Little Bear, I think it’s time to wake up.”  
  
    “Little Bear,” she asked with an arched brow.  
  
    “Have you heard yourself growl? It’s meant to be intimidating I’m sure but it’s just kind of adorable. Speaking of are you going to bite me if I help you stand up?”  
  
    She tried to stand on her own but her knees and hips protested to the point of tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Her face reddened but she accepted the hand up that Gabrian offered and found herself leaning into him for support as they made their way to the warehouse door. When it opened Hawke was there blocking the opening with his not insignificant size. He was wrapping whoever came through the door first in a bear hug and professing how much he had missed them. After the first, Isabela, was crushed he repeated it with the other two.  
  
    Once Anders was released and allowed through the door he noticed Gabrian and then Cat propped up in his arms. She looked lifeless, like a marionette that had been hung up and abandoned. When she saw him she tried to smile but it was more of a grimace. Anders rushed to her pulsing a bit of magic into her searching for the cause of her condition. She winced at the magic but when he knelt in front of her she allowed him to poke and prod. She didn’t have the energy to protest anymore anyway but he was far gentler than Varric had been.  
  
    After he was satisfied that he’d had all the information he could get at that point the asked Gabrian, “how long ago was she poisoned?”  
  
    Gabrian knitted his brows together in a confused frown and asked, “What do you mean?”  
  
    Anders hoisted Cat up into his arms and she forgot why she was supposed to resist it. Instead she buried her face in the crook of his neck and inhaled. She snaked a hand up to the loose hair that had fallen from his tie down to his shoulders and curled it around her fingers.  
  
    Anders changed tactic and asked, “how did she end up like this?”  
  
    Gabrian recounted their escape, eyes growing wide as he got to the point in the story where Cat was shot with an arrow. He realized then that the arrow must have been poisoned. Anders was in motion by then forcing everyone to follow him and cutting all further reunions short as he doled out instructions. He sent Isabela and Hawke after supplies, Gabrian and Fenris, who were holding hands by then, after the arrow and he sent Varric to The Hanged Man to ready a room for Cat.  
  
    While Anders was speaking Cat’s gaze wandered around the group but she settled on a man she hadn’t met before. Or maybe she had. He looked so familiar but her head had become too fuzzy to think. He noticed her too and his face shifted to concern and another emotion that Cat couldn’t work out. Awe maybe, or fascination. Either way she wished he would stop staring at her like that.  
  
    His voice was heavy with unspoken emotions when he said, “I’m sorry I just never thought I’d see you again, Connatus.”  
  
    Cat was pretty certain by then that she was hallucinating. She had poisoned enough people to know that was the most likely explanation. One of her marks thought he was having a conversation with Divine Beatrix III while he died. Surely that was what was happening here. She decided to give in and rest against Anders chest since she was no good to anyone in this state. She stroked his hair through her fingers as the rhythm of his steps rocked her to sleep.  
  
    Varric met them at the door of The Hanged Man and said, “Hold up Blondie, there’s something you should hear first. Her boss is in there. Tiny is… protective of his company and he will definitely be hovering over you as you do whatever it is you’re going to do.”  
  
    “That’s fine as long as he stays out of the way.”  
      
    Anders moved to step past Varric but the dwarf blocked his path further. “That’s the thing, Tiny is not going to take being told to sit down and stay out of the way very kindly. Also he’s a massive Qunari.”  
  
    “Makers breath Varric get out of the way. I doubt he’s going to kill the healer if he’s that protective.”  
  
    Varric raised his hands in placation and opened the door to usher Anders and Gemellus into The Hanged Man. Once they entered the tavern a hulking Qunari with an eye patch rumbled up to them from across the room shouting, “boys they’re here.” A motley group if mercenaries descended on Anders each doing his or her best to get a look at Cat. The commotion woke her up, she raised her head up from Anders chest to see Iron Bull staring down at them.  
  
    “Hey Chief. Are you really here or am I imagining you too?”  
  
    “Polly, what are you talking about?” He ran a gentle finger across her cheek and moved to take her from Anders but she curled herself into the mage more thoroughly. He was the only thing she was sure she wasn’t imagining, well at least mostly sure since he was carrying her around, she wasn’t about to let go of him.  
  
    She said, “I hallucinated my brother into existence. He’s around here somewhere, well around here.” She waved her hand in a general motion indicating her head.  
  
    Anders spoke up then, “She’s been poisoned, I’m not certain what it was but I’m guessing concentrated spider toxin.” He looked down and smiled, “you’re not hallucinating though, he is your brother. You two can have a warm family reunion after I make sure you’re better.”  
  
    Varric spoke up then instructing Anders to take her to his own suite. Once there Anders found an examination table and Isabela and Hawke laying out the supplies Anders had asked for with the help of a dark skinned human man and a pale blond Dalish elf. Iron Bull introduced them as Stitches and Dalish. Anders settled Cat onto the table gently and gave out more instructions while The Chargers crowded into the room.  
  
    Anders raised a hand to cut off the commotion around him. “Look I know she’s your friend and you are all concerned but I need room to work here so if you aren’t experienced in healing please step outside the room. When she’s stable one or two of you at a time can come in to see her.”  
  
    The Chargers began to protest but Iron Bull raised his voice above them, not yelling but inserting his authority into the words, “You heard the man move out and let him patch Polly up.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some pretty heavy descriptions of pain and dealing with what amounts to a gigantic brown recluse spider bite in this one so be warned. Also I'm moving to a two week schedule for this maybe. I want to work on other things but I always feel like I need this to the priority so I don't get anything else written. I'm hopefully going to get something else done, and posted on the off weeks.

    Anders cut the rest of Cat’s torn shirt and bindings off and pulled away the makeshift bandage. He furrowed his brow in concentration but his usually expressive face was neutral. Iron Bull and Stitches wore similar expressions but Dalish gasped when she saw the mess of torn flesh on Cat’s ribs. The wound was the size of a large man’s hand and formed a series of rings like a bullseye. In the center was a weeping gash that cut down to the bone and oozed blood and an opaque yellow liquid. The next level of rings was black, dead flesh and it was crowned with a ring of angry fevered skin.  
  
    “Oh Creators lethallan, what did they do to you?”  
  
    Bull grumbled, “Dalish,” and she schooled her face to be more neutral.  
  
    Anders had taken on a detached demeanor speaking calmly as he examined the wound gently. Each touch was excruciating and Cat flinched more than once. He soothed her with quiet murmurs of encouragement then said, “Cat, I can’t heal this right now there is too much poison in the wound. I’m going to have to clean it and then cut away the dead tissue to remove as much of the poison as I can. I can cast a sleep spell to spare you the pain.”  
  
    Cat’s eyes shot open wide and a stream of, “nonononono,” poured from her lips.  
  
    Bull spoke up, “she’s afraid of the fade.”  
  
    “Cat it will be extremely painful. I’m going to have to cut the flesh away with a blade. Please,” here is voice wavered, “I don’t want to cause you any more pain than I have to.”  
  
    She shook her head violently from side to side. Gemellus stepped up to the table  then and said, “I think I can help.” He took Cat’s hand in his and drew her attention so that she was looking into his eyes. He slipped into his rich tone and spoke soothing words designed to draw her in and comfort her. She relaxed onto the table holding the eye contact like a life line.  
  
    While Gemellus calmed Cat Anders prepared a wash of water and a mild elfroot soap for the wound. He used an open ended glass tube topped with a leather bulb to suck up the solution and then with a squeeze of the bulb he sprayed the liquid into the wound. Cat tore her gaze from her brother and arched her back howling at the pain. Gemellus let go of her hand to help Bull hold her shoulders down to prevent her from tearing her ruined flesh any further.  
  
    Anders pressed his lips together resigned to using physical force to restrain her. He instructed the men in the room to hold Cat down at each limb with Gemellus and Bull on her shoulders and Hawke and Stitches at her feet. Dalish stood at her head and cradled Cat’s face stroking her hair away from her forehead and whispering soothing words to her. Isabela hovered off to one side waiting to pass off instruments and supplies as Anders asked for them. Once Cat was as secure as they could make her Anders took up the bulb again and cleaned the wound thoroughly.  
  
    Each time Anders sprayed the solution into the wound Cat screamed until she ran out of breath. When he finished the cleaning her voice was thin and her face was flushed and red as a strawberry. Anders allowed her to lay back to rest for a moment before moving on to debride the dead tissue. He took her hand in his and found it slick with blood where she had clawed at her palms. A heavy sound settled in his chest, the next step would be more painful than the cleaning by several times over. He wasn’t sure she could manage the pain.  
  
He sighed and again asked, “are you sure you don’t want me to use the sleep spell?” She whined but he pressed on, “Cat I’m going to literally remove skin and muscle. The wash was nothing compared to that.”  
  
    She shook her head in a short motion but it was enough that he didn’t push any further. He took a small, sharp blade in his hand then nodded to each of the men holding Cat down. “Hold her as tight as you can. Don’t let her move her torso at all.”  
  
    He took a steady breath and confidently cut into the wreck of ruined flesh. He didn’t hesitate when she screamed. He didn’t hesitate when she cried. He didn’t hesitate when her body trembled as it finally gave up and she mercifully blacked out. When she was no longer conscious he picked up speed, skilled fingers making short and precise work once he didn’t have to worry about her struggling.  
  
    Once all of the poison and dead tissue was gone from the wound Anders was finally able to heal her injuries. He began with the hole in her side, knitting together muscle and flesh to fill it in. There wasn’t enough material to heal it perfectly, a scar the length and width of his middle finger remained. He could go in later as her body healed further and make a second attempt but it was likely that she would always have a scar. Next he moved on to her knees which were still swollen and stiff from the fall. That at least was something he could repair fully along with her palms. He finished up by pulsing a final bit of magic into her wrecked throat to heal the damage she had done while screaming.  
  
    Bull picked her up, careful not to wake her, in order to move her to Varrics bed. He cradled her head like an infant as he lowered it to the pillow and smoothed out the crease between her eyebrows when she became restless. He whispered a thanks to no one in particular that she didn’t wake up then pulled the blanket up over her. After a series of grunts ands sighs he settled his bulk onto the floor beside the bed ready to stand watch over the mended body of one of his “boys.”  
  
    “You did good work there,” Bull nodded at Anders when he pulled a chair up and crumpled into it, too exhausted to continue to stand. To Gemellus Bull said, “you are definitely weird but damn it you look almost exactly alike. What’s the story here?”  
  
    Gemellus explained that when he and Cat we’re around ten his magic had manifested during a rare moment apart from each other. He didn’t have to explain further for Bull to get how they were separated. Gemellus went on to explain that their old favorite Tevinter nanny had snuck him out that night and a Rivaini smuggler got him out of Par Vollen.  
  
    Anders had slumped forward with his elbows on his knees but his eyes were fixed on Cat watching her breath like she’d stop if he looked away. When Hawke put a hand on Anders shoulder he jumped then scrubbed a hand across his face before looking up. Hawke looked down with a mix of emotions on his face. “Anders …”  
  
    Anders cut him off, “Is Carver stable?”  
  
    “He’s in a coma.”  
  
    “I can’t leave until she wakes up. Is someone with him?”  
  
    “Yeah. Do you need anything?”  
  
    “A hot bath, a nap and Sebastian Vaels head on a golden platter. I’ll settle for the nap.”  
  
    Hawke clapped him on the back and turned to leave, “if you decide you need anything send someone to the estate.”  
  
    Hawke pulled Isabela to his side as he left, nodding to the two members if the Chargers standing watch at the door. They topped the stairs in time to see Fenris and Gabrian entering the tavern. Hawke sent them to Varrics suite and told them they had rooms at the estate when they were ready. Gabrian suppressed a gasp when Fenris said only one room would be needed. Isabela mouth the words, _I knew it_ , with a grin as she and Hawke left.  
  
    Fenris and Gabrian came to the door of the suite only to be blocked by a storm cloud of an elf and an imposing man. The elf had a pair of daggers gripped in her hands and snarled at the men as they approached. The man beside her crossed his arms and looked down his nose at them. “What’s your business here,” he asked.  
  
    Gabrian smiled meekly and said, “um we were sent after a poisoned arrow.”  
  
    From further in the room a voice rumbled, “Krem, Skinner, let ‘em through. The healer needs that arrow.”  
  
    They soften as the recognized allies and stepped aside to allow the men to enter the room. Fenris hung back, he didn’t know Cat and it made him feel like an intruder. Gabrian strode up to the bed, arrow in hand, and looked down at the small body of his new friend. She shifted in her sleep and mumbled something unintelligible then settled back down.  
  
    “She did that a lot on the ship,” he remembered.  
  
    “She fights the fade even when she’s blacked out.” Bull spread his hands in a seeking gesture as if the explanation was in front of him. “The Qun teaches that the fade is dangerous. She probably hasn’t been in it more than a handful of times.”  
  
    Anders cocked his head and said, “huh so that explains it,” then took the arrow from Gabrians hand and rose to examine it. He scraped the poison from the head then probed it with magic. He had at first assumed it was just concentrated spider toxin but now that he had the sample he found that it contained a bacteria that accelerated the destruction of tissue.  
  
    His eyes flashed blue and his fist crashed into the exam table. “He didn’t just poison her. This was meant to maim her. If it had hit one of her limbs she would have lost it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “All because of her association with me.”  
  
    He whipped his head around when Cat’s groggy reply came. “Kaffas, Anders do you blame yourself when people get paper cuts reading that manifesto of yours? Because if you do you have a dozen to answer for on my right hand alone.”  
  
    He laughed as he returned to her side and said, “I think I should apologize more for the time you lost reading it than the paper cuts you received. Sorry to wake you but how do you feel?”  
  
    She squirmed to find a more comfortable position without tugging at the still sensitive wound and flatly said, “like I was shot with a poisoned arrow and half the skin on my ribs was removed. Also like I might puke on your shoes and my head will fall off.”  
  
    He put a hand under her head and one under her shoulder to help her adjust her position then placed a chaste kiss on her forehead to test her temperature. The skin there was fevered and clammy but not enough to be a worry. His two middle fingers on the pulse on her wrists found that it was sluggish but also not to a degree that would be troubling.  
  
    “There is still poison in your blood that will linger for a while. Don’t be scared, it’s just going to leave you a little sick but you’re out of danger now.”  
  
    She pouted sourly and said, “I’m not scared, I’m pissed.”  
  
    Bull belly laughed at that and said, “that’s what I like to hear.”  
  
    Cat turned her head slowly as though she’d just realized there were people other than her and Anders in the room. Her gaze lingered on Gemellus for a second but landed on Bull. “Chief, where are the rest of the boys?”  
  
    Bull waved his hand beckoning the others to come closer and the whole crew circled around the bed. Cat affectionately asked the dwarf, “Rocky, you lazy asshole, where were you while I was dying?”  
  
    “Drinking all the ale these sods left on the table,” he winked and patted her on the leg.  
  
    “What about you Krem?”  
  
    Krem shuffled his feet and looked aside, bashful now that the attention was on him. “Skinner and I stood guard at the door while he patched you up.”  
  
    Cat grinned weakly and said, “Krem you’re such a classy guy.”  
  
    That had Skinner snickering into her hand and Gabrian said, “you should take growling lessons from her Little Bear. She is terrifying.”  
  
    The ever silent Grim grunted at that but whether he agreed or just found it amusing was anyone’s guess.  
  
    Cat looked around again and found Gemellus, “so I guess you’re real huh?”  
  
    The group parted and allowed him to come closer to her. He put her hand in his, amused that even their hands were the same. He couldn’t find words now that the danger had passed. Instead he just nodded. He thought, _I’ve missed you so much all of these years._  
  
    Cat nodded and said, “me too.”  
  
    Gemellus knitted his brows and deliberately thought, _did you hear that?_  
  
    “Of course,” Cat said out loud but then understood that her brother hadn’t said a word.  
  
    He decided to try an experiment. In his mind he asked, _what’s my favorite color?_  
  
    Cat smiled briefly and said, “green,” then realized everyone else in the room was looking at them like they’d both turned into ogres. She tried to project her thoughts to him and asked, _where have you been?_  
  
    His eyes rounded out a bit but he answered in his mind, _Rivaini ships mostly._  
  
    Cat barely stifled a yawn then and tried to shift herself down on the pillows again. Exhaustion was settling in again and her eyes fluttered despite the excitement. Anders said, “she needs to rest. I’m going to check in on Hawkes brother. I’ll be back but if she wakes up before then give her as much water as she can drink but no solids just yet. If anything changes have Varric send a message to the Hawke estate in Hightown.” To Cat he said, “get some rest it’s the best medicine I can recommend right now.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets see if this works. This is basically what Cat looks like but she's short and muscular. The character creator won't let you alter body type though. http://notanotherscreename.tumblr.com/post/134387817878/as-close-to-cat-as-i-can-get-because-the-cc


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I finally found Carver. Sorry for the delay. I have no real excuse other than not really feeling much like writing. But hey new chapter, and a new short in a different series, all in one day. Go me!

    Anders entered the estate when Orana stepped away from the door. She looked the same as he remembered, but her demeanor had hardened a bit. She even willingly looked him in the eye for a moment when she greeted him. He had like her before, she had always sent food down to him in his clinic and made sure there was enough for any patient that needed something. Now he felt awkward, he wanted to greet her with a hug as was his norm before, but was unsure if she would welcome the contact. He hesitated for long enough that she noticed his faltering and took the initiative herself. She tipped herself up onto her toes and hugged his neck affectionately before turning to lead him further into the estate.  
  
    “How have you been messere?” He was pleased that she had finally lost the habit of calling everyone master.   
  
    “Well enough,” he answered. “And yourself? I know Hawke left Kirkwall for a time. What did you do while he was gone?”  
  
    Her face warmed as she spoke, “Messere Varric stayed in the estate while Messere Hawke was gone. Then when Messere Varric left Ser Carver stayed here.” She lost a bit of her spark as she continued. “Whoever did this to him … they’re bad people. You’re going to help him aren’t you?”  
  
    He sighed for what felt like the tenth time that day and said, “I’m going to try.”  
  
    “That is all we can ask isn‘t it?”  
  
    He smiled and nodded. They entered the great room to discover Hawkes Mabari, Buster now old and gray in the muzzle, taking up his usual spot on the rug in front of the fire. Anders crouched down to scratch the old dog behind an ear earning a lick to his palm as he pulled away. Despite being a cat person years of fighting with the beast at his side had taught him to appreciate the finer qualities a dog had to offer. “You’re a good boy aren’t you?” The answer was a stretch and a yawn as Buster curled back up and fell off to sleep again.   
  
    Anders stood up and turned back to Orana. Where is Carver?”  
  
    “He is in the guest room. Would you like for me to fetch Messere Hawke?”  
  
    He shook his head, “No, I’m sure he and Isabela want to catch up. I’ll need some parchment and a quill. Do you think you could find those for me?”  
  
    She dipped her head then said, “It is the first door there.” She pointed to indicate the one she meant then turned toward the library.  
  
    Anders leaned into the door as he opened it to suppress any sound it might make but he ruined his attempt at silence with a surprised squeak at finding someone sitting next to Carver in a chair. Merrill turned to see who had entered the room. Her face brightened when she saw him and she rose to greet him.   
  
    “Anders, lethallin, I’m so pleased you made it.” She pecked a kiss to his cheek as he hugged her.   
  
    He asked, “how have you been? Last I heard you were leading a group of alienage elves away from here.”  
  
    “Well yes, but then Varric sent me a letter to tell me about Carver and I came right back to help take care of him.”  
  
    “What happened?”  
  
    She shrugged, “the best guess anyone has is that he was force fed lyrium until this happened. I think he may be stuck in the fade. He may be held by a spirit. After the breach spirits have been particularly active.”  
  
    She settled back into her chair tucking her feet under herself as Anders examined Carver. His pulse was barely discernable and his whole body, particularly his hands and feet were blue and frigid. A fire raged in the fire place but it had no effect on his temperature. Anders raised each eyelid to examine Carvers pupils finding them completely constricted showing barely a pinpoint of a pupil. He probed his magic into Carver searching for the physical cause of the ailment but it was as Merrill had assumed. He had been overdosed on lyrium surely but the coma was not caused by physical effects.   
  
    Orana has entered the room, silently as ever, and stood at his side causing him to jump when she said, “I brought the paper you asked for.” He thanked her with a smile then continued his examination, scribbling notes as he did. After a time Hawke entered the room taking up another chair near the bed waiting for Anders to finish.   
  
    Anders looked up and said, “I’m going to need a more detailed account of what happened. He obviously has lyrium poisoning and is in withdrawal. It’s actually a small mercy that he isn’t awake for this part.”  
  
    Hawke shrugged. “While I was at Weisshaupt, remind me to tell you how I wound up there, I got a message from Varric that Carver was ill. I rushed back as soon as I could As best as anyone can gather he was abducted while he was on his way home from the orphanage in Lowtown. He was missing for three days and then he was dumped in the garden. Orana found him then called Aveline, she and Donnic got him inside and called a surgeon. That crackpot wanted to drill a hole into Carvers head to … to …”  
  
    “Let out the bad humors,” Merrill supplied when Hawke faltered.  
  
    “Yes that was how he put it. When I got here I set about searching for all of you. Varric knew how to reach Merrill and had a good idea of how to reach Fenris but you were a different story. First we had to find you then we had to get you here without alerting Sebastian. Guess that didn’t work as well as we had expected.”  
  
    Anders shook his head, “Cat said he found me on his own. I’m apparently conspicuous.”   
  
    “That you are Mage,” Fenris said from the door frame.  
  
    From behind him Gabrian said, “coming from a man that glows when he’s angry I don’t think you have much room to talk.” He hip check Fenris with a grin as he came further into the room. To Anders he said, “Iron Bull asked me to thank you again and to invite you down to The Hanged Man for drinks with “the boys” when you get a chance. Also Little Bear said you still owe her a streak through a Chantry and she intends to collect so don’t run off.”  
  
    “How was she when you left?”  
  
    “Sleeping, she got some water down and kept it down but she was still nauseated.” He settled himself into a lean against a wall, looking as comfortable as if he’d lived there forever.  
  
    Anders set the paper and quill down and ran a hand over his hair to smooth it. “I’ll go check on her again when I’m done here. I need to see about getting a room in The Hanged Man anyway.” Hawke cleared his throat to speak but Anders cut him off, “I don’t want to impose on you, I understand how dangerous it is for me to be here at all and I won’t compound that by living here.”  
  
    “Actually,” Hawke began again, “you don’t have to worry about that. You can live in your clinic. It’s under my estate so it’s technically mine. I had the cellars expanded while I was gone. I decided I might need an escape route if I returned to live here. The clinic is now my secret exit. Also I figured while you were here you’d go back to healing every penniless wretch in Kirkwall.”  
  
    Anders opened his mouth to speak but he was lost for words. He settled on saying, “I don’t think anyone in Darktown wants to see me again.”  
  
    “Nonsense, you’ll see. We can run down there and you can see it for yourself if you’d like.”  
  
    Anders’ shoulders slumped as he contemplated just why it was so hard to say no to Garrett Hawke. “Fine, I have a list here of things I’m going to need to treat Carver. I can’t proceed without them” He turned to leave the room but a thought struck him. “Merrill, do you remember Feynriel? When he was stuck in the fade your Keeper sent us in there. Do you think you could do that?”  
  
    She pursed her lips and said, “Maybe but I’ll need to do some research.”  
  
    “Good, that may be our first course of action. You were right. There isn’t a physical cause for the coma, he’s just doesn’t seem to want to wake up.”  
  
    This time he did leave the room following Hawke who had moved to the door while Anders and Merrill had spoken. Hawke led him to the door he’d used a thousand times before. This time it felt foreign, like he was walking into a new world rather than a place he had lived for seven years. The first thing he noticed was that the door was reinforced from the cellar side. It wouldn’t hold forever against force but it would hold long enough to give a head start to anyone on this side. Further in he realized that the cellars had been renovated to be living spaces. There was another house worth of rooms including a sitting room and more bedrooms. A quick look into one of the open doors revealed that they were in use, at least some of them were.   
  
    “Who do you have as guests down here Hawke?” Nosy yes but if he was to be sharing space he needed to know with whom.  
  
    “That was Walters room there, Merrill’s room is over here.” Hawke absently indicated the rooms while he moved on.   
  
    Anders stopped walking and said, “wait, Walter? As in Walter and Cricket?”  
  
    “Yes, he works for Varric. While I was gone Varric let him stay here a while. I assume Carver didn’t even know he was down here because he comes and goes through Darktown.”  
  
    “Where is Cricket then?”  
  
    “He was adopted, lives in Ansburg on a ranch. Walter gets letters from him two or three times a month.”  
  
    They continued walking, moving further into the lower reaches of the estate. Anders had expected to find his clinic ransacked or occupied by Darktown residents and rats, or both. The reality far exceeded his expectations. As they entered, the first thing he noticed was that it had been expanded so that one was truly going from the Hawke estate into the clinic which gave the clinic an extra room to house patients. The second thing he’d noticed was that it was immaculately clean. From the walls to the now wooden floor, rather than packed dirt, it was spotless.   
  
    Anders circled the room in a wide arc, taking it all in. There was a stack of clean new cots in one corner and two tall exam tables were pushed against one wall. The tables were laden with crates of supplies. He opened one crate to find bandages and salves. Another revealed sterilizing equipment and bottles for potions. There was also a basket full of elfroot and spindle weed.   
  
    Anders pressed his knuckles into his forehead trying to calm the headache building there. This was meant to be a gesture of goodwill but he was having trouble appreciating it for the subtext in the gesture. “You expect me to stay don’t you?”  
  
    Hawkes grin spread as his eyes sparkled. “Of course, why wouldn’t you?”  
  
    Anders huffed his frustration out in a long breath, “Hawke, I’m one of the most wanted criminals in Thedas. I can’t just move back into my old home and expect to not get caught.”  
  
    “It’s the last place anyone would expect to find you.”  
  
    Anders sighed, exhaustion was creeping up on him, fraying at the ends of his control. “And the fact that Sebastian knows I’m here? That’s not going to lead them right to me?”  
  
    “Lead who right to you?”  
  
    This time his temper did flare, “The Templars you bloody, soft hearted, good natured, idiot of a man.”  
  
    Hawke bowed over grasping his middle as he guffawed and snorted at that thought. He laughed for a full minute and took two tries and several deliberate breaths to control himself. The display did nothing to help calm Anders’ temper or his nerves. He was considering walking out when Hawke finally regained enough control to speak again. “Anders, the Templars are almost nonexistent at the moment. There are few left that weren’t tainted by the red lyrium but they are mostly outlaws at this point. Other than that the only ones left are the ones that opposed the orders to slaughter all of the mages in Thedas. The Templars, at least for now, are not a threat.”  
  
    Anders faltered but added, “the guard then. Surely Aveline is out for my blood.”  
  
    “She was but I promised her that I would convince you set the clinic back up to help. I understand why you left. It’s why most of us left but we need to help rebuild this place. We helped tear it down after all.”  
  
    Anders shook his head sadly, “No you didn’t have anything to do with it. I made sure you didn’t know.”          
  
    Hawke flashed his temper, just a glimpse of the fury Anders knew the man was capable of wielding as effectively as any magic. “No, I wasn’t aware of your plan to blow up the fucking Chantry, I did help you gather the supplies though. If you had told me, I could have helped. We could have found a different way … I would have helped you Anders.”  
  
    “I don’t think I could have let you then … It’s the past though. Andraste knows I’ll spend the rest of my life agonizing over it but you shouldn’t. I made sure you had nothing to feel responsible for.”  
  
    Anders walked further into the clinic, going through what had originally been the front door to find that this space had also been renovated. The floors were wooden here as well and the space had been partitioned into different rooms. The largest room had a full bed in it with modest but comfortable looking linens as well as down pillows. A wardrobe and a chest took up one wall and a desk was set against the other. It had felt like an age since he had slept in a real bed. Oddly enough he slept in them more while running that he did when he was settled. While he had lived in Kirkwall he spent most nights asleep in a chair after exhaustion took him while writing or propped up against a wall keeping vigil over a patient. On the odd night that he actually stretched out to sleep it was on one of the old cots that were so short his feet hung off the edge.  
  
    He moved on to find a room that was mostly taken up by a bath tub with a strange contraption that resembled a sieve attached to a pipe dangling over it. “What’s this,” he asked.  
  
    “Damnedest thing isn’t it? It’s a Qunari thing. The workers couldn’t dig a well so they ran this down here from the estate instead. They called it a shower. It’s supposed to be more efficient than a bath. It’s got a rune in the pipe to warm the water. Go ahead, turn that lever.   
  
    Anders did as was instructed and a spray of water, perfectly warm for a bath, shot out and down into the tub. He marveled at it for a moment then remembered what Hawke had said. “This is a Qunari thing?”  
  
    “That’s what they told me. Said it worked well with the Dwarven plumbing in the estate.”  
  
    Anders remembered Cat’s aversion to bathing in the shack. He had assumed that it was a Qunari custom to bathe in new water but this had him rethinking that. Perhaps she was accustomed to bathing like this instead. He’d be sure to ask. After all that had happened to her because of him he’d gladly turn over the use of this contraption to her if she would enjoy it.   
  
    He finished out his inspection of the clinic thinking about her. He’d made a mental list of things to buy at the market on his way to the Hanged Man to check up on her. He didn’t trust the food there, he’d eaten there too often for that, so broth made the list as well as good fresh bread. He was calculating the cost when he found a small crate stuffed with a pillow in the corner of the main room. It was just large enough for a fat well fed cat.   
  
    “Garrett Hawke, did you get me a cat to entice me to stay?”  
  
    Hawke feigned innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If however you happen to find a cat it’ll have a bed to sleep in.”  
  
    A disgruntled sound escaped his throat as Anders turned away but he had to hide a small grin at the thought of having a cat again. He rearranged his face and turned back to Hawke who was still smiling that knowing smile of his. “I’m going to The hanged Man to check on Cat. Do you think Orana has any broth made up? And bread? Cat’s not going to be able to keep much else down for a few days but she needs to keep her strength up.”  
  
    Hawke raised an eyebrow and said, “probably, I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help. They have broth and bread at The Hanged Man you know. That’s not good enough for her though, is it?”  
  
    “Hawke, she nearly died because she knows me and helped me. I’d have her sleeping on a down mattress with servants waiting on her every need if I could.”  
  
    “Uh huh, because she helped you right?”  
  
    “Maker’s bloody fucking balls Hawke don’t. I’ve known her for less than three weeks. Besides you‘re the one that hired here. You should feel just as guilty.”  
  
    Hawke spread his hands in placation. “Fine, fine, just remember, I’ve known you for a long time and I know that look you have there. It’s the same look you had when you told me to stop flirting with you because you’d end up breaking my heart eventually.”  
  
    “Well, fortunately you listened to me.”  
  
    Hawkes face fell, “maybe if I hadn’t …”  
  
    “If you hadn’t I wouldn’t have had the will to turn you away and I would have just dragged you down with me. Don’t dwell on that. And don’t get any ideas about Cat either. She’s made it clear that she’s moving on to whatever her next job is anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fan fic I've ever written. The first real thing I've written in years actually so I'm out of practice. I've got an idea of where this is going, but it isn't finished yet and I'm an obsessive editor so I might change some things, I'll make a note if I do.


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